The Problem with Parties

Now that it has been for-freaking-ever since I last updated, I suppose I shall tell you about the weekend's social endeavors, in no particular order. Today's edition? The birthday party. This birthday party took place at The Works. The Works is an arcade/restaurant/pit of hell where misbehaving children roam free while their parents sit at the bar and drink.

See? Doesn't that make the place look like FUN?

This is also where my daughter had her birthday party last year. According to the birthday child's mother, that is why they chose this venue for their party. We are totally trend-setters. Well, at least my daughter is.

My daughter also has pink highlights in her hair, which makes her the awesomest 9-year old EVER.

 Usually, there are a couple of mothers that I can sort of latch onto socially. We mostly stand nearby and make sure the children aren't dying while we discuss bland things like school and extra-curricular activities. At worst, my husband is there to keep me company. This time around, neither happened. The only parent I knew was the birthday child's mother, who was obviously busy doing birthday things like taking pictures and eating cake. I found a nice corner where I could play Hanging With Friends with my sister all afternoon, while keeping an eye on my daughter to make sure she didn't choke on her pizza or something.

I hereby claim this corner in the name of Cassandra!

After the eating had finished, the kids went into the BALLOCITY. *dun dun duuuuun* It's a big climby thing where kids can shoot balls at each other or something. It's a kid-thing. I've never set foot in it, to be honest. Where I normally would wait by the exit with the other mothers, I felt lame standing there by myself. So I went to the arcade, where I played Percussion Master like the dork I am.

Hells, yeah.

Then I wandered around until it was time to fish my daughter from the depths of the BALLOCITY. *dun dun duuuuun* Yes, sadly, playing video games with my 9-year old daughter was the most social interaction I had all weekend. Laaame.

Next time, I will tell you the tale of the bowling league moms. I really need to stop signing my kid up for stuff.