Sunday, October 27, 2013

We Totally Did The Mash

Our elementary school has hosted many Father-Daughter dances and Father-Son baseball outings. But never anything for the moms.  Our reward is the sense of fulfillment we get from organizing and running every PTA event, finding new creative ways of raising funds to keep the school functioning, and managing our children's classroom lives on a day-to-day basis.

B.S.

All of that changed the other night.  My amazing friend pitched the idea for a Mother-Son Monster Mash and then pulled it off with flying colors.  The decorations were out of this world, there were activities to keep all of the boys occupied even if they didn't want to dance, and the food was Halloween-inspired tastiness.  I mean, who doesn't want to eat a cup of snot or guts - with Oreos on top?  (Personally I might eat anything with smashed up cookies on top, but I digress).

The best part was the fun spirit that filled the multi-purpose room.  All of the moms wore costumes and the boys felt special accompanying their "dates" to the dance floor after adorning the moms with unique monster corsages.  Who doesn't want a googly-eyed creature on their arm?  (Not referring to my son here).  I stopped to talk to another mom about my son's Minion costume and while I was explaining the exhaustive homemade process, I accidentally dropped the F-bomb.  At a school event.  Again.  Whichever one of my friends had the over-under for 5 minutes got the payout for that bet.

I escorted my Minion to the photo booth and carefully instructed him to step over obstacles because the poor boy could not see anything through his limited-view eye hole.   I was dressed in a coordinating unicorn costume ("It's so fluffy I'm gonna die!") and was immediately drenched in sweat and flushed from heat stroke.  My unicorn was a furry-inspired pajama onesie that I found on the internet and supposedly people really wear these things to lounge around at home.  What???  I could only wear this thing if I was lounging around in the Arctic.  With my other furry-animal-pajama-wearing friends.  That reminds me of a certain music video...

So the song "What Does The Fox Say" started playing, and being the insane mom that I am I dragged my reluctant son toward the dance floor.  I think the combination of heat, nervousness, and mortification caused him to have a mini-breakdown.  He started crying because he didn't feel like he should leave me but he definitely didn't want to be near me while I was busting my moves in public.  I looked on in envy at the other mother-son couples who were shakin' it.  Flying toilet paper rolls unfurled over the crowd periodically.  The fog machines kicked into high gear, the DJ was getting into the groove and I looked over to see my Minion up on stage dancing with his friends.  Ah, life was good again... and then the fire alarm started blaring.


What do responsible moms do in this situation?  A few ushered their sons outside per regulations.  A few more went outside with the express intent to direct the firefighters to the appropriate location.  Most stayed inside to keep dancing.  Sure enough the fire truck, lights flashing, showed up and the crew got down to inspect the source of the alarm.  Um, could it be the wall of fog/smoke inside?  A rumor swirled around that one of the boys might have pulled the alarm.  Because of this, the DJ was playing "I Knew You Were Trouble" when the firefighters walked in.

Here's the thing: you can't send the cute, young guy in first to an event with a bunch of moms standing around.  It's like throwing innocent Christians to hungry lions in the coliseum.  The appreciative chorus of screams was almost deafening.  I can't be sure, but I might have seen boys roughly shoved aside so that grown women could get closer to the ax-carrying public servant.  I'm surprised that no one started chanting "Take it off! Take it off!"  He gamely smiled and tried to make his way through the growing throng of costumed moms, all snapping pictures while he valiantly tried to do his job.  Eventually we were all sent outside so that fans could blow the offending smoke (and, coincidentally, wads of TP) out of the room and the alarm could be silenced.  After one group photo with the fireman that is.

During the chaos someone fell and bumped their head and an ambulance joined the foray.  Small groups of mothers and sons wandered off toward home rather than wait for the party to resume.  I felt proud that I was not involved in the harassment.  In reality it had something to do with the fact that I looked like this:


In any case, that was the best Inaugural-Farewell Mother-Son event ever!!!        

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