NEVER SAY NEVER

One day Girl6 brought home an invitation to a birthday party.  It was going to be at a local waterpark.  We had driven by that site nearly every day since the day they broke ground, and every day my daughter would ask me when we were going to go there.  I would whisper to myself, "never", and then murmur, "Oh, I don't know!"  The party was to be an overnight party at the lodge.  Girl6 had never stayed overnight at a friend's house before, and this was not going to be the first of many.  I told her she could go to the party, go swimming, and then I would bring her home.  She dejectedly accepted this compromise.  When I called to RSVP, it was not the mom who answered, but the grandma.  I explained that Girl6 would not be staying over night, and she said for Girl6 to be sure to bring her swimsuit.

The big day came.  As I circled the lot, looking for a parking space, I noticed the tribal police car zooming into the lot.  I remember wondering for a millisecond what would bring the tribal police to the water park and lodge.  After finding a parking spot, I shouldered the swimming bag and the birthday gift and we headed toward the front door.  I noticed the policeman walking in with a man in a stocking cap.

The lobby was very crowded, but Girl6 spotted some of her other friends there.  We gathered with them and I reacquainted myself with one of the mothers, a wife of one of my former students.  I asked her if the birthday family was already on the premises.  She nodded toward the serpentine in front of the reception desk and said they were waiting to check in.  She stood on her tiptoes to try to spot them, and when she couldn't, she said, "The dad is wearing a stocking cap."  My head whipped around to stare at her.  "The one who came in with the policeman?", I asked her.  She nodded in assent.

Finally the family got to the front of the line and checked in.  It turned out that the birthday girl's grandma was springing for the payment of the room.  She said, "OK, see you all later!  Have a good time!"  The other mother and I looked nervously at one another.  There was no birthday mom in sight.  The birthday dad, while passing out water park bracelets to the kids, was still being spoken to by the policeman.  I strained my ears to hear what was going on.  I heard the phrase "bodily injury", but everything else was drowned out by my own daughter clamoring to get help with her bracelet.  The other mother, Diane, and I looked again at each other, and telepathically said in unison, "I'm sticking around!"  A third mother, after witnessing all of this, kissed her daughter goodbye and said, "see you tomorrow!", and left.  The birthday dad said, "Well, let's go up to the room!"  Diane and I heaved our swimbags on to our shoulders and followed the kids down the hall and up the stairs.  Some child at the front of the pack had decided that we didn't need to take the elevator, so we climbed four flights of stairs.

The room was a suite, with 2 double beds in one room and one in the adjoining room.  The kids all dumped their bags and started springing around on the beds.  The birthday presents were in a pile on the table.  The birthday girl, Susie, asked if she could open them.  Nobody seemed to object, so she started ripping in to them.  The dad had brought a garbage bag full of wrapped gifts up to the room, and it became obvious that his mother had bought the presents.  He had no idea what they were, nor was he paying attention.  Every one of them was some sort of Barbie.  Each present was ripped open, glanced at, and tossed aside.  No one was writing down who gave which present.  I decided at that moment not to expect a thank you note. 

After the presents were opened, we all sat around and stared at one another awkwardly.  There were 2 little girl guests, the birthday girl, a younger brother, an older sister, and an older cousin.  I estimated that the sister and cousin were in middle school.  The sister was dressed gangster-style, with long basketball shorts and a baggy shirt, and her hair skinned back in a pony tail.  The cousin was dressed in tight pants and a tight camisole top with all sorts of straps showing.  The cousin had magically produced a curling iron and plugged it in, and was standing in front of the mirror doing her hair and makeup.  At that moment, I couldn't imagine two worse role models.

The dad reappeared and looked at all of us.  "Hey, you guys!", he said excitedly, "do you want to go to the Arcade?"  The children all cheered as if they were going to see the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus.  I was pretty sure that my own six-year old didn't even know what the Arcade was.   Mister (as I had grown to call him when speaking to Diane), pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and peeled some off the top.  He gave the bundle to the sister and said, "Here's fifty dollars.  Take the kids down to the Arcade and split it between them."  The kids were already running out the door and down the hall.  Diane and I grabbed our swim bags and dashed after them.  Mister stayed behind.  Diane and I trotted to keep up with the kids.  Every once in a while, we exchanged wide eyed looks with each other, saying with our Mom ESP, "Can you believe this?" 

The Arcade was dark and seemed smoky, although smoking was not allowed in that particular area.  We got our supply of coins and set out as a unit of four:  Diane, her daughter Lizzie, my daughter and I.  I may be dating myself, or maybe exposing how dull I am, but I don't think I had been in an arcade for about twenty years, if ever.  Neither Diane nor I could figure out how to make the games work, and we lost many a coin because we didn't know what we were doing.  Our girls didn't seem to mind.  I kept looking at my watch.  I hissed at Diane, "It would be pretty awful to leave before the girls got to go swimming, wouldn't it?"  She nodded in agreement.  I kept looking around, trying to keep track of the other kids in our party, who didn't seem to have a parental unit.  It seemed to me to be a perfect place to lose a kid.  I spotted Mister.  He came over and told us that he had ordered pizza.

When the pizza arrived, we all trooped back up to the room.  Mister had bought several cheese and pepperoni pizzas and some Coke.  The kids ripped in to the pizzas and attempted to help themselves to the 2 liter bottles of soda.  I sprang to pour and Diane jumped up to dole out the pizza.  The kids sat around on the beds eating, to my disgust.  I watched as they spilled pizza sauce on themselves, wiped their hands on the bedspreads, and balanced plastic cups of Coke on the mattresses.  I couldn't bring myself to have anything.  I could hardly keep from looking at the time every five minutes.  The party was dragging on for what seemed to be an eternity, and the kids hadn't gone swimming yet.

Finally each child had had her fill of pizza and once again we were staring uncomfortably at one another.  Mister said, "Well, what do you want to do now?"  I almost screamed, "Isn't it obvious?!  We're at a WATER PARK!"  Luckily the kids all answered him and he responded with, "OH!  You want to go swimming?"  Each kid raced for a bathroom or other private spot to change into her swimsuit.  I scurried around, throwing soggy napkins and leftover pizza away, lest it get left under the covers.

By some miracle, the workers at the water park were not standing at the door inspecting the incoming and outgoing guests.  Diane and I marched right in with our daughters and right down to pool side.  While everyone else was in their bikinis and Speedos, I was in boots, jeans, a T shirt, a sweatshirt, and a down jacket.  Diane had on a rain coat.  We each still sported a swim bag, both of which looked to be overflowing with clothes and towels.  We dragged some chairs over to "our spot" and plopped ourselves down right next to the wave pool.  We knew that not only did Mister not know the names of our kids, he didn't know if they could swim or not.  With all of the people in the indoor water park, it was doubtful that he could even recognize our daughters once they were in the pool.

Diane and I sat in the eighty degree warmth, scanning the pool area with eagle eyes.  Not only did we keep track of our own kids, we kept our eyes on the little brother, who seemed to be unattended in a different pool, and the birthday girl.  Mister arrived after a while, but then it was even hard to pick him out of a crowd without his stocking cap. 

We sat as long as we could.  We compared notes on how early we could leave without being rude, and while still being nice to our children.  By 8:45 p.m, we had each had enough.  We rounded up our kids, made them say thank you, and stumped off to a bathroom to get our kids changed.  Mind you, our kids didn't go very willingly.  Of course they wanted to stay longer.  I could only think of one thing worse than stuck in a hotel room with a strange man, whose name I didn't even know, and that was leaving my six year old daughter there to stay over night.  Emerging from the bathroom, we each dragged our daughter to the car.  Waving goodbye, I realized that in all of that craziness, I had met someone else who had some sense.  What did I learn from this?  Never say "Never".