I get a text the other morning from my soon-to-be-16-year-old that read, “Can I have 40 people over for my party?” Umm, no, I responded immediately.She fired back, “But why not?” with several crying emoji faces.
Why not, my darling? Let me explain. Because by 40 people, you mean 50 hormonally challenged, angst-filled girls and boys. Because by party you mean five hours of said high schoolers eating and dancing and yelling and probably breaking stuff. Because we have a walk-out basement. Because even though I’m often an honest-to-god supermom, I don’t function well after 8 p.m. on a Friday of a long work week in February. And most significantly, because your dad will be out of town that night. So, no, you may not have 40 people over for your party.
That did not sit well with her, and for the last week, my husband Doo and I have been bombarded with increasingly desperate attempts to get me to fold. To her credit, she’s been quite creative. For every one of our reasons against her proposed underage rave, she’s offered thoughtfully considered counterpoints, the most compelling being, “It’s my sweet 16; it’s a big deal!” I have almost caved twice on that one.
Unfortunately for our birthday girl, Doo is always quick with his mantra of “liability” to keep me strong. And since she is unwilling to change the date of said soiree, as that would solve the biggest issue of all (me having to chaperone this shindig all by my lonesome), it looks like we may be in the clear.
Then again, why not? My baby is turning 16! What could possible go wrong?
Peace out.
