The Dance Party Where Only I Got A Workout

This past weekend marked a huge milestone for us. Yeah yeah, my first baby turned 5 and all that and I cried feeling melancholy on the 18th but really the milestone was, a home party. Yes, the adult dreaded home party. Two hours of screaming banshees while momma dreams of a glass of wine and saying over and over, "At least it wasn't $300 spent at the mall".

Twelve of your child's best friends in drop off mode running like little chickens with their heads cut off through your family room bar area pulling bottles of vodka off the shelves and climbing the fire place in one fell swoop. I decided that we would shun the Build A Bears and Gymborees of America and opt out. Of course my vote was to opt out completely and sit on the couch while eating a little paper box of shrimp lo mein while watching Power Rangers. (My kind of serious partying.) But we all know who was going to win this one.

So after all the themes (and there were many) were planned, after the cake was made and the invitations sent...I thought for sure we'd have one heck of a dance party. My little Ginger Rogers can cut quite the rug. So, I assumed that every 5 year old this side of the Mississippi would be dying to swing a hip and toss an elbow in my cleared out playroom. (I cleaned the room people!) I'm glad I don't know how many times exactly I guess WRONG when it comes to the little kids who cross paths with me in life.

I made a mixed tape. Twelve mixed tapes (in cd format) to be exact. Each child would get to take home a fabulous memory of Ava's Favorite Dance Tunes, it would serve as a life long memory of all the fun they had dancing up a storm at Ava's 5th Birthday party. Look, closely at the picture. Ava is dancing, Mommy is dancing. Please email me and tell me how brave I am to show pictorial representation of myself dancing on the internet. A smattering of other children are dancing. But guess what? The cool kids were sitting on the couch shaking their little heads at me. They could not be cajoled to dance. What's up?? They are 5! Shouldn't this be the time in their little lives when they throw caution to the wind and have a devil may care attitude about their white man's overbite? Apparently not. I've been officially dissed by not one but 3 five year olds. The kids danced for exactly 10 minutes (the kid's who would dance at all, because they are the ones who's other's played that goofy I Hope You Dance song for them in their cribs as babies as they cried crocodile tears hoping their children would participate gaily in life while feeling small when they looked at the ocean) and then it was a free for all.

I lost control, in 15 minutes.

I decided to let them knock themselves out in the playroom telling myself it was Free Play for another 2 hours. Then I retreated to the kitchen for more than my share of cake.


It was pineapple ice cream cake. And it was yummy.

Want to know what the "cool non-dancers" said about my cake?

It was something to the tune of yuck, and can we have the popcorn that is on your counter instead?

I casually asked if they'd even tried my cake. They said yes. I spooned popcorn onto their plates secretly hoping they would choke on it.

Evil, I know. But this is why I will never be a preschool teacher. Not even close.

In the end I think everyone had an ok time, no one went the the emergency room. Ava cashed in on a boat load of kid clutter. I was left to pick up folding chairs and pineapple bits from the carpet. Nothing like that to tire a girl out.

What will we do next year? Perhaps we'll opt back in and she can take her 12 best friends to the day spa up the street and I can take out a 2nd mortgage while eating my shrimp lo mein out of small paper boxes on my sofa.

Party on.