Roller Skating with two 5 year olds is the 7th circle of Hell!

I am sure that if Dante had been alive in the 80's he would have surely put a roller skating birthday party for special needs preschooler somewhere in his model of the 7 Circles of Hell.

So, a little background for you prior to my rant, might help. I know that some of you might have not only liked the 80's, but actually loved them. Good for you, everything needs to feel loved and I am glad someone is out there to keep the love of the 80's alive. I however am not one of those people.

The next important thing to know is that I have not one, but two special needs children. One has major stimulating issues and is easily overstimulated. He absorbs everything at high intensity from sound and smell, to taste and sight. He has no filtration ability. My other son suffers from trauma induced flashbacks and since he could not hear for about the first 3 years of his life and regularly goes through period of poor hearing, when he does hear things well, it is pretty intense for him.

The next important fact that might help you feel my pain, or at least be moved to avoid a similar situations, is that my kids are part of an early intervention pre-school program for kids with similar issues including the child whom the party was for.

Last but not least, you need to know that I was proactive and instructed my husband, who I never ask to come to parties with me, that he had to be there. One hour before the party John finds out that his mother was coming last night from Wisconsin to visit and that she would be at our place (which was a disaster) in three hours. John "got" to stay home and clean while I "got" to take the boys to the party.

Emerson had been sick with a fever and cold for the last few days and he was so concerned that he would not be well enough for the party. We used the party as a big carrot for him to rest, drink lots of fluids and take it easy so that he could be well enough to go. Next time I will send him out in the rain with bear feet to let him stay ill rather than go to such an event.

We get to the rink only to have to park in the grass down the road because it is so crowded. This should have been my cue to run screaming. But no, I barged ahead. We go in, can't find anyone from the boy's class, but we did manage to snake through the arcade (melt down number one) to find the place to get skates. The lady behind the desk ask for my shoe size. I am quick to say that I will be helping two boys and I would like to do that in shoes without wheals. She gets skates for the boys and I preform a fantastic foot stuffing feat of getting four feet in skates. So far so good.

I watch the scene on the rink for a moment to figure out that there are levels of skating abilities on the rink and the center is for people like us, clueless and helpless. Things are OK for now. The music is bad, but corny 80's bad. The boys take turns falling and holding my hands, then ripping each other away from me so that they can hold both hands, then falling, then rolling, then pulling, then shoving. I am sure my arms are longer today for it. Again, this is the good part.

Then the DJ (if he even deserves such a title), changes the lights to seizure inducing strobe level and starts playing loud intense techno music with strobe lights and sirens. This is when my boys start to tweak. The lights alone were not a good thing. I don't have a seizure disorder, but I now get why such lights might entice the body to send mass electrical surges to go with the ambiance of the disco ball. I am pretty sure it is the body's attempt at equilibrium. Emerson is now crying in the fetal position in the middle of the rink begging for just the normal lights. Isaac was OK at this point, but was wondering why his heart was beating so loud (referring to the techno beat.)

Then the Jack %$^&; DJ man thought it might be fun to push the kids who are wigging out to a new level. He starts blaring police sirens. Great, now I have my flashback trauma child clinging to me for dear life while sobbing, because, well in his world sirens are not some cool sound effect. I mange to drag my slipping sliding, sobbing boys to the carpet and then a bench away from the crowd of leg warmers and mini skirts who know all the words to every 80's song playing. I get them calm enough to talk. Emerson looks at me and says "this is what I worked so hard to feel better for?" Yup buddy this is it. "Mom can we go, I want to go, I want to go, I want to go," Me: "OK buddy but do you want cake and ice cream." "Maybe you could get it for me at the store and we can have it at our home." This was big, as far as our boys are concerned you can't have cake and/or ice cream unless it is a birthday party.

Papa Don on a hike behind out house.

This is really how we prefer to have a good time.

At that moment they call for the birthday party we are attending to go for cake and ice cream. We gladly trade the skates for shoes and walk back through arcade temptation land to the party (I have lost count of the number of melt downs because they are all bleeding into one another.) The first thing someone does is hand my child a Mountain Dew. Seriously! You have Mountain Dew at a 4 year old's birthday party. OK that is bad enough, but lady you know my sons. Do you think they really need any more stimulus or energy inducing input? Fortunately Emerson said, "we are not aloud to have this, may I have something else?" "Sure honey we have Diet Coke."  Really!  What 4 year old birthday party guest really needs diet coke. Aspertian (sp?) is on our list of things we hope our kids never ingest, and here is a hint, kids shouldn't need diet drinks, and if they do, I am sure the diet coke is not the solution they really need.

I go to the water fountain strategically placed in the pricey arcade and get the boys water. We kindly eat a few bites of cake, say our thanks one hour before the party is over. I am certain Michal Jackson was playing as we escaped. The boys informed me that they like parties with "normal lights, no music, and really just the jumpy place." I am cool with that.

Now I am left with wondering if I am sheltering them too much. Did this freak them out so much because it was the complete opposite of how we live, or was it because it was a pretty darn freaky experience.