*This is Miami – post 6.
My brother turned 13 a couple of weeks ago, but like the sweet little brother he is, he wanted to wait until I came home to have his birthday party. So last Saturday, we had a pool party for him and all of his school friends..A pool party is one of the most stressful types of parties parents can have for their children..soooo many things can happen! So, to take some of the pressure off of my Mom, I told her I would help her with whatever she needed..little did I know what I was getting myself into!
The kids started to show up at around 3:30 -first came the boys..who, initially, were very interested in the humongous slide we had gotten for the occasion.
Ha! This only kept the boys entertained for so long..
Well that lasted for all of 15 minutes..you know, until the girls showed up. I shouldn’t have been surprised when my Mom told me that my brother had hand picked all of the girls that were to attend his party. (Gone are the days when my Mom just invites everyone in his class)..and who did he choose to invite? Well the entire cheerleading squad of course! Ughhhh! These girls,,these girls! They looked more like 20 than 12! One after one they began to stroll in.. with their short shorts, their faces full of makeup and their hair done – did they not get the memo that they were going to a POOL party..and the bathing suits they had underneath??!! To all of my female readers out there – did you wear string bikinis when you were 12? Please tell me NO!
With eyes wide open and a scowl on my face, I watched each girl walk past, taking note of every detail about them and watching their every move – nothing was going to happen today..Not under my watch!
You should have seen me!…standing at the side of the pool with my arms crossed and my eyes darting from the slide, to the pool, to the jacuzzi, to the bushes, to the snack station..scanning for any suspicious behavior! Of course, the kids eventually caught on..suddenly their loud conversations turned to whispers when I came close..and the ones who were holding hands decided it was best to stop.
And then, I said it..those 5 dreadful words, that every child hates to hear..
“I was your age once!”
And with that, I covered my mouth with my hand..shocked that I had, in that very moment, become my overbearing mother, and was doing everything I had always hated! I decided to step off for a bit and go mingle with the parents who were all sitting in the patio completely unphased by what their kids were doing..
The pizza was eaten, happy birthday was sung, and the gifts were exchanged..
After the last kid left at around 10:30pm I collapsed on the couch, exhausted..muttering to myself how I was never going to have kids. My family all found this very amusing, especially since I was known to be quite the wild child and the black sheep of the family when I was younger..My Grandfather said it best when he exclaimed..“9 months in Lebanon have done you well Danielle! You left Paris Hilton, and came back Mother Theresa!”
lol..Grampa..I gotta give it to you, you’re good.
Then - Danielle pre-Lebanon
Now - Danielle post Lebanon..