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Friday, October 4, 2013

A nightmare of a frat party involving 9 year old boys .

I had a dream that Porter was in a class with a bunch of boys that were all friends.  Even though we have a rule that we only invite as many friends to parties as the child is old, in the dream we decide to invite 12 of the boys in his class.  What's two more people, right?  Well as the dream went on and as the party plans got underway, we realized that we had forgotten two boys.  Shoot.  We decided to invite them.  We didn't want feelings to get hurt.  The dream continues as we drive around town passing out invites and see another boy in his class that we had overlooked.  So, what do we do?  A normal person would say, "Well, I can't invite the world."  But a crazy person would say, just like I did in my dream, "What's one more?"  So you have 14 kids, plus an additional kid in the class that found out about the party and said to Porter, "Are you going to invite me?"  Porter said to him that he had already invited too many people.  So in this horrible dream of mine, both Porter and I felt bad for him. So we shrugged our shoulders and said, "What's one more?"  So at this point we have 15 9-10 year old boys coming to the party plus 4 of my own boys.  Now add to this horrible dream that the night I have this party planned is the night that my husband has school.  So I would be carrying out this plan alone with all of these boys - 19 to be exact.  At one point I thought that I should probably enlist the help of my mother-in-law or a friend, but being the person I am, I decided that I don't want to bother anyone with my predicaments.  I rationalized that I have taught in classrooms with many more children and taught dance for years.  I am usually good with classroom management so I carried on with the plan.  It is obvious now that I wasn't thinking clearly - no one thinks clearly when they are dreaming, right?

I must note that I was thinking clearly enough to dress to impress with my maxi skirt and my new jean shirt.  At least I had that going for me.

Soon the boys started flooding in.  There were games to be played and energy to be burned, but somewhere between the deafening roar that I couldn't even talk over and everyone smashing their cake in their own face, I realize that I had lost all control.  At this point, it would have been nice to wake up, but there was no mercy for me; the dream went on.  I tried to remedy the situation.  Play a fun game or two, but I was out numbered.  The simple words of "mob mentality" and "wild animals" kept going through my head. At one point, I took my dear 9 year old aside and told him to calm down.  That caused the birthday boy to cry if he wants to and he removed himself from the party and went outside and after I had gathered everyone together he still said he wasn't ready to come in.  So, feeling panicked and alone, I sent them all out to join him.  That actually remedied the situation and they all began playing.

Luckily the dream took a turn for the better when Glenn arrived home from school and things calmed a bit.  (My maxi skirt must not have sent the message of authority.)  Glenn and I had a small pow wow while they opened presents in compete chaos, but at least they were contained in one room.  That's when we reached for our Netflix dvds.  We thought National Treasure would be a good movie - not too babyish.  Turns out it had a huge crack down it.  Our only other option was Mighty Ducks 2.  Despite being made in 1994, it turned out to be a winner and after breaking a pinata (where no one got hurt) and the movie, I feel things ended pretty well.  I was alive.  All the children made it out alive - which became the prayer of my heart during the night.  Our house was a disaster, but it was still standing.  Things could have been worse.

This is the point that you would imagine that I woke up.  But as you have probably guessed, this dream was not a dream at all.  It was my life.  It was an event that spurred many internal reflections on whether or not our family is going to do birthday parties.  Ever again.  Yes, if my children wonder what happened to birthday festivities in the Small Home, I will tell them of that night, that dark, dark night when I thought I could handle a million little boys all on my own.  How I will always remember that night!




At the height of crazy, someone locked the back door.  It wasn't me, I swear, though I wish I would have thought of it.  Instead of letting the animals in, I made up a new game, stare at the animals in the cage and take pictures.  I called it Zoo. At a loss for what to do next, I just stood there and stared right back at them.  Then I became thankful to have the picture.  Proof.  At least when they found my dead body, they would have a clue of what might have happened just prior to the tragedy.

1 comment:

azandersens said...

This is bringing up some memories when I was a Bear den leader.