Laser Tag Birthday Party Survival Guide

Having an end of August and early September birthdays are hard on my middle kids. I feel bad for them because their birthdays are two weeks apart so inevitably their parties are combined because I don't have the energy to do it twice. Summer parties are difficult because Washingtonians flee the oppressive humidity of August. Even if they understand why their friends can't attend, it's still depressing when only a handful of those you invited actually show.

That's what I was thinking when I scheduled the party for Labor Day weekend. With a friend's tales of childhood disappointment in my ears, who never had sleepovers or parties on her birthday because her friends were out of town over the holiday weekend, I over-invited in anticipation of no-shows.

As luck would have it, everyone came. Several more neighborhood kids loitered in the street in front of the house, patiently waiting to be waved over. Including my own four, my yard contained 31 children between the ages of 5 and 12. Thankfully, my neighbors were out of town.

I had the good sense to hire someone to run the party. Earlier that summer, my friend Celeste hosted an outdoor laser tag party at her home run by a game master. He brought all of the equipment to her house and organized the kids into battalions. We had planned for 24 and were concerned the kids would be disappointed they'd have to wait but the kids willingly took breaks in between battles to escape inside where it was cool to play air hockey and foosball. On another table were army men, tanks and airplanes. The weapons bucket in the basement that contained an assortment of Nerf Guns, pistols and light sabers emptied in a flurry of skirmishes, good versus evil.

Final casualty count: one watermelon, two canteloupes, 2 lbs of grapes, 4 lbs of strawberries, 136 servings Country Time Lemonade, two Costco-sized bags of chips and pretzels, and one vanilla cake that served 45.  The rest was a sweaty, smelly success.

A Chuck E Cheesey Mother's Day

Just last week I told a friend how fortunate I'd been to have attended only two birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese these past 11 years.  I jinxed myself.


The envelope was sitting in my son's cubby at preschool.  Pleased that one of his classmates thought to invite him, I opened the envelope containing a one-two punch.  A party.  On Mother's Day.  At Chuck E. Cheese.  


Tinkerbell looked up at me from her glittery purple flower perch.  "You wouldn't decline, would you?"  Ugh.  Fairies are supposed to make wishes come true not deliver guilt trips. 
  
My son will be thrilled to go, I thought.  Arcade games, pizza, cake and neon colored candy are a kid's dream.  In a moment of insanity, or because I had recently read stories about kids birthday parties where no one showed up, I replied "yes."  I got punked by Tinkerbell.


Chuck E. Cheese parties are as much fun as going to the dentist.  They even offer the same cheap plastic toy prizes.  While I can't stand the place, I conceded the mom was smart to host the party outside of her home.  Who wants fossilized cheesestick nubs under their couch or to sweep up pulverized goldfish?  That soda spill?  The syrup will make the carpet fibers more durable because it's not your carpet.  The noise? With any luck your ears will ring long enough to mute the sounds of the guaranteed overstimulation-and-too-much-sugar meltdown.


After 45 minutes of Skee-ball and basketball I was ready to go but the pizza and cake had yet to be served.  Cursing myself for being punctual, I meandered over to the table where a couple parents sat.  Conversation, which normally comes easily for me, was stilted because I was tired and irritated.  They were lovely people, and meeting them was the best part of the afternoon.  I wish I could have been fully present.


At last the program began.  Our teenaged party hostess tried, but was unable, to look cool while leading a "Happy Birthday!" cheer competition between tables.  We were then greeted by the life-sized mouse, waving, high-fiving and thumbs-upping his way around wary four year olds. Videos of saccharine preteen actors riffing guitars blinked on the screen behind him.  Had Dante lived in the 21st century, this forced cheer would have been one of his seven levels of hell.


Two hours and cake later, we were sprung.  I am glad that my son had a good time with his friends but I will never again sacrifice Mother's Day.  And the next time the kids are invited to Chuck E. Cheese their father will have to take them because I'm now lactose intolerant.