The New Party Circuit

I felt her hand on my shoulder as she saddled up to me. She leaned in and said -  I feel like I'm trolling you but I'm not. It's just that you seem normal and if you ever want to hang out and have a play date here's my card. I took it, laughed. I think I'm normal, I said. She smiled - gotta go.

This is what children's birthday parties are like. 

In our twenties we awkwardly bummed cigarettes and went out for a smoke and now we trail after our kids hoping there will be one or two other normal parents it won't be too awkward to strike up a conversation with.

Knowing each others names is not as important as knowing each others kids. Or at least matching kids to the appropriate parent so as not to seem self-involved, oblivious or worse - racist.

You find yourself thinking things like - I've go to get the name of their face painter. And you hardly blink when the party reaches the inevitable moment where kids start to strip down to their underwear and run around in the sprinklers like drunken 80's rock stars hopped up on lollipops and cake.

You think it's hilarious when the birthday girl's mom slits the throat of the My Little Pony cake decapitating it and you know you've found a kindred spirit when another mom pulls out her phone to snap a picture of it too. The kids gather 'round the pony like ravenous vultures attempting to take a bite - plates be damned.

I eat all the pizza and don't even try to pretend I'm going to feed my daughter broccoli or baby carrots. She's going to subsist on a a lunch of skittles and cake pops and it's too much energy to pretend I'm a better mom than that. I'm not, but that's okay cause most of the other moms aren't either. We're all just getting through it and that's okay.

Eventually you pull it together enough to get your kid to put her clothes back on and manage a gracious exit hopefully sans tears and meltdowns, waving goodbye or slipping business cards until next time.