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 That was what I was going to find out on that long-anticipated Friday night, when my daughter was having her very own slumber party. Two of her girlfriends were coming over to – well – to do what I wasn't quite sure. So when they arrived, I had the Chinese food ready, and we all sat down to plan the night. “Let's dress up!” one of the girls said, trying to fish her peas out of her fried rice. “Let's do a dance routine!” suggested the other as she circled the teriyaki sauce with her pot sticker. “Let's TP someone's house!” chimed in my daughter. Well, all right. I remember how to do all this. But hold on. They didn't want me to do any of it. This might sound a little silly now, but in my mind I was having a slumber party, too. It took everything “adult me” had to hold back “little-girl me” from joining in when they pushed themselves away from the table and started dancing around and singing “Part of Your World” from “The Little Mermaid.” When I said, “Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?” my daughter eyed me as if to say, “You sing one more verse, you're so banished to your room.” Fine. So I'm not invited to the sing-along. Or play Chinese jump rope (I was going to smoke those amateurs!). Or pretend that we were all sisters who lived in Paris. Being completely transparent here, I was disappointed I wasn't going to be staying up until 2 a.m. giggling and putting bows on the dogs. I clearly remember being a kid and looking at my parents as they watched us have all the fun. They'd look on as we rode the log ride at Knott's Berry Farm. They'd wait in the freezing station wagon for us to come out of the roller skating rink after an all-night skate. They'd watch us “make a pig of ourselves” at Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor. Every time I'd think, “Good grief, it must really stink being a parent. Who'd want that job?” Now, I'm the parent, and you know what? I get it. It gives me joy to watch my kids have fun. I couldn't have understood that as a young girl, but as my daughter and her friends splashed around the pool pretending they were mermaids, I was filled with happiness. I cheerfully watched as they piled high their Cherry-on-Top cups with gummy worms and sprinkles. And the next morning when the house looked more like the remains of a party from “Animal House” than “The Barbie Diaries,” I merrily picked up the abandoned stuffed animals, empty juice boxes and sleeping bags. It's not so bad being the parent. But 12-year-old me still wanted to go to a slumber party. So that night my daughter obliged me. We did our hair. We played a fierce game of Chinese jump rope and, finally, I got to belt out Ariel's solo, “Out of the sea (sweeping right-hand gesture); Wish I could be (another sweeping left-hand gesture) Part of that world ...” I totally nailed it, too. Suzanne Broughton is OC Family’s lead mom blogger. Read her blog on HERE. |
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