It Was a Late Night

Before my own good fortune of becoming a mother myself, I often heard people say that their children were definitely born with their own personalities. Now I see what these wise people were saying. No matter what I do, how good or poor my parenting skills might be, my children have their own personalities. Not to say that I can't provide guidance and help them learn to channel their energies positively. I can have an influence on my children, but I can't dictate their natural tendencies, nor can I determine their talents or force their agency.

Brita has discovered that she is shy. I have an idea of how she must feel because I am shy myself. (People don't typically believe this of me, but it's true. My mother spent years of my life telling me that I gave off the impression of being snotty because I wouldn't talk to people. I've practiced for many years to pretend I'm not shy and to overcome it to a degree. But maybe more of me later. This post is about Brita).

Brita has told me that she is shy when she doesn't know anybody, but once she's comfortable she's not shy anymore (is that ever the truth). As a result, she was really lonely and depressed when school started. It was seriously rip-my-heart-out sad. Her school teacher finally stepped in and asked one girl to be Brita's friend for the day and that's all it took. Now she has lots of friends and she's been dying to have them all over.

So this past weekend, in lieu of a sleepover, we had a "Late Night" with the girls (6-9:30pm). Five of the six girls who were invited were able to come and Brita is still riding the clouds. I'm thrilled that it went so well. Jared and I have always said that we want our girls' friends to feel comfortable in our home and we want to have them around, so we psyched ourselves up and said our prayers. The Late Night was loud and it was crazy, everyone wanted to talk at the same time, and at one point I heard Leah announce that one little girl was crying because her feelings were hurt, but I expected nothing short of those things. I just wonder if the headache I've had for the past few days is the aftermath of a successful Late Night. If so, I'm going to have to figure out a better coping mechanism.

We kept the events of the Late Night really simple.

Pizza

 Notice how Leah is right in the middle of all of Brita's friends. This was hilarious because Leah was at dance when the party first started; she came running in the door while everyone was at the counter eating pizza and she promptly pulled up a chair right in the middle of all these girls she doesn't even know. She was best friends with all of them by the end of the night. Big surprise. Brita was awesome to include her.

Play practice for a production they want to present for their teacher on her birthday this Thursday

Brita is the mean principal in her scary wig
(she's obviously not shy with these girls anymore)

A craft - we settled on flower hair clips because it's basically the only craft I know how to make. Do crafty moms realize what pressure us un-crafty moms feel when we have a crafty kid?

I just threw all the supplies out on the table and they came up with their own creations.
I was impressed with the final results - apparently I was the only person
in the room that night who lacked skills.

A little bit of playing on the wii and a final pose (unfortunately I couldn't get them all to settle down for a photo until after a couple of the girls had already left).

I couldn't figure out the meaning of the microphone, but for whatever reason,

it was of utmost importance that they all had a hand on it.

Brita loved the Late Night. Leah loved it. And even little Meg made herself a part of it - unfortunately she couldn't keep up with all those big girls. She'd just get settled in and the party would move to another location. She spent most of the night wondering where everyone went.

When it was all over, Brita basked in the memories just created. She kept repeating "I loved the Late Night" over and over, like she was dazed, and often she just said the words to herself. Before she finally settled down enough to go to bed, her last words to me for the night were, "Mom, if I love anything more than you, it's crafts."

Great. No other words could make this un-crafty mom shudder so. The pressure is definitely on.