So here's the scoop. I had a few doubts about the party, really. I'm not good with large number of kids and entertaining and all that. I enjoy it, mind you, but I'm not good at it. (Hey, at least I'm aware of this.) I mean, you kids are going to have a good time here, but it might not exactly be the most structured event that's ever happened. I planned otherwise, mind you, and put Luke in charge of things since it was his party. Actually, he volunteered, because of his overwhelming excitement, and I took shameless advantage of that fact.
Luke had three lists going. One list of games to play, one list of food to serve, and one list of decor ideas. The boy had it covered. I taught him well. A list is your best friend, and it's good to have several. I checked over his lists, realized that he had a pretty extensive party planned out, and my work was pretty much relegated to cleaning, making the food appear, and playing host. (You know, everything that goes along with hosting parties.)
The week of the party, I made sure I purchased all the items needed to decorate, serve, and conduct games with. I wanted to start in with the cooking, but most things were last-minute type finger foods, so there was little I could do in the way of preparation. My organized little self was a bit disappointed over that fact because if I have time to get things done in advance, I will. Instead, I waited. And waited. And waaaaaiiiiited.
And then Micah decided that a weekend at Children's was what I really needed last weekend. So from the hospital, I tried to rearrange my life. I emailed my boss, letting him know that my work would most likely not be turned in on time (and he was awesome enough to reassign my cases and give me off for several days), I put the kids in charge of cleaning the house, and I called grandparents to be acting adults in the event that I wouldn't get home in time to be at the party. (Becky could easily run the shindig, but I'm not sure what parents would leave their child at a party hosted by teens, with no adult supervision on the premises.) And then I prayed that things would go as smoothly as possible for Luke's sake. Cancelling was not an option, because when one invites the whole class, and three quarters of civilization does not feel the need to RSVP, and you have no idea who parents are to call anyway, you have no choice but to stand at the door and greet people when you've announced that you'll just that.
We got home from the hospital 2 hours before guests were scheduled to arrive. The kids had the house cleaned (they rock) and were at the corn maze when I got home. (You know, the corn maze our church hosts every year, and my husband heads up, and the family works at every weekend in October.) Sam ran out the door to work the maze, too, and that left Micah and I to pull food together. It went as well as could be expected considering I had 1.5 hours of sleep the night before But bolstered by stress-induced adrenaline, the food magically appeared and the party guests arrived.
The parents all pretty much had one sentiment as they dropped their kids off. "Good luck tonight. It's so fun for the kids, but there's no way I'd host this." So, is this like the worst class of kids EVER? Are other parents even worse at hosting than I am? WHAT ON EARTH DID I GET MYSELF INTO?!
Turns out, the kids were pretty good. They had episodes of running and chasing and being way too out of control, but I soon curbed that with "lets do something else, please," and the weather was fabulous, so we made a bonfire and headed outdoors for tag in the dark. All in all, it wasn't bad, but I'm considering this Luke's party of the year. With his birthday coming in a month or so, I'm going to look back on this with glee. I survived.
But people, I'm baffled. Apparently 6th graders do not eat. Anything. I had to beg them to nibble on something. What the heck?!
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