My only sister, the youngest child of our family, my BABY SISTER turned 16 recently. Her birthday was on a Sunday, and because we dare not screw with people’s lives on a Razorback Football home game weekend (Amen), we had a big ol’ party for her the following Friday. So this is the story of why Bryan and I should be “sainted,” “knighted,” “damed,” what have you…ALL THE HONORS APPLY.
So I pride myself in party planning. I love it love it love it. I get to use my particular skill set of organization, visionary creativity, logic, delegating, and most importantly, the use of planners and office supplies.
I plan or am involved in the planning of most of the events for my family and many for my friends. Sierra and I started talking about this toward the beginning of the summer when I had the brilliant idea that she should have an 80’s “Sixteen Candles” themed party, ya know, since she was turning 16 and all. I soon learned that not only would that theme be lost on most of the attendees, IT WAS LOST ON MY SISTER. (Worry not, we’re in the planning stages of an intervention, you can come if you want.)
So she decided that she wanted a video scavenger hunt around Northwest Arkansas, similar to the one we threw for her 14th birthday, which was all the rage among her friends. (I obviously have a very humble opinion about my parties, so this did nothing to boost my ego, of course.)
We (I) decided on a “Mystery/Detective” theme and a color scheme of black, white, and yellow. Little Diva decided she loved that color scheme, but wanted a purple and teal cake. Only moderate twitching occurred as I processed the idea of an out-of-theme cake. Nonetheless, invitations were sent, even if it did take daily texts reminding Sierra that “if her friends didn’t tell her whether or not they were coming, then they would be tied to the roof of the car for lack of room.”
Or something nicer probably.
Yeah, I’m sure it was nicer than that.
Here comes the explanation of why Bryan and I deserve royalty status.
We somehow got roped into having this shin-dig at OUR HOUSE. That’s upwards of twenty 14-16 year olds, folks.
In my house.
My rent house.
Running around my rent house and backyard.
What’s better, we fed them soda and cake. Fittins are smart people, y’all.
Somehow, BECAUSE WE HAVE THE BEST FRIENDS (or just really bored ones), we got another couple and my brother and his fiancé join us in the circus parade that is driving around a bunch of teenagers. Also, my parents not only paid for the party, they helped supervise. After 3 kids and one million birthday parties, they probably deserve royalty status too, but this is about me and I’m not great with sharing.
So after multiple nights of crafting (laughable because I am TERRIBLE at crafts) the “Confidential” and “Top Secret” folders for the Scavenger Hunt lists (Because I suck and have no pictures, you just have to use your imagination to fully grasp that my dad and I took manila folders and stenciled out the words on every.single.one.of.them.), the goody bags, the mason jars of yellow candy (harder to find than you think), and all the things, the day arrived. It was a windy day and we were attempting to decorate with balloons, caution tape, and paper lanterns, so it went exactly how you think it did.
The thing about scavenger hunts is that they are not drop-in events. Time is of the essence unless you want to cross approximately three things off the two-page list. Surprisingly enough, the 15-year-olds didn’t comprehend and plan for that. We also had a number of drop outs, most of them somehow managed to be boys.
So let me paint the picture for you: a lot of girls, two boys. On top of that, the male portion of our savior couple, Michael, lost the boy on his team. Michael was growing his beard out for a ZZ Top concert. The thought of a grown, fully bearded man driving around a bunch of High school girls was just a smidge concerning. After some quick re-teaming, I was explaining to rules (loudly) and yelling “GO!!!” as they pushed, ran, shoved, tripped, and leaped to get their supply bag and run to their team cars.
At one point during the night, I was eating a Chick-fil-a sandwich while trying to back out of a steep gravel driveway. As I was doing this one handed as to hold onto the sandwich at the same time (priorities, people), the boy on my team made a comment about it. I said “Whatever, I backed this car out LIKE A BOSS.” To which he replied “Um, that song went out in like 2011.”
“That’s just when the song came out, that phrase has been around for a while young one.”
“You only know that because you’re old!!!”
I really had nothing to say to that until he told the rest of the car jokingly that I probably wouldn’t speak to him the rest of the night. I calmly explained that I didn’t care because I knew that 23 was not old, however my husband….
”YOU HAVE A HUSBAND?!?! So wait, you’re like, out of college? Whoa.”
My team (also the birthday girl’s team) came in last place I’m pretty sure, and my exhaustion from the prep for this soiree overcame my compulsion to win for the first time ever.
After piling all the young whippersnappers (I can say that because I’m old.) into our living room to watch and laugh at all of their embarrassing videos, they left and I crashed. Bryan’s team won and I still didn’t care. Just so you’re aware of the level of my exhaustion.
And yes I’ll be holding this over Sierra’s head for years to come.
Oh, you don’t want to babysit my kids tonight? Remember that time I had 22 screaming teenagers at my house for you? That’s what I thought.