where’d you sleep last night?

We hosted our daughter’s birthday party this weekend and this being the Year of the Slumber Party Birthdays, I was a bit anxious about the night.

In March, we’d hosted a bunch of boys for my son’s party. Those 8 year old boys could not have been easier to manage.

Give me pizza. Done

I want cake. Done.

Where’s your pisser? Around the corner. Please hit the bowl.

Easy enough.

But this weekend, the girls were invading. Six girls I didn’t really know so well since our daughter goes to a private Kindergarten, outside our district, as I need an all day program to make our work-life “balance” balance and I haven’t been as involved in the school as maybe I should. We are only there a year and I’m not trying too hard to “build relationships.” Call me a bad mom, whatever!  I’ve seen the girls around the hallways, but I didn’t know what I was in for or what personalities I’d invited into my home.

The night started out easy enough. We had our pizza, then all the girls piled into the minivan to head to the nail salon. Now, if you drive a minivan or have seen one from a distance, you know there are two rows of seats. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO DECIDE WHERE TO SIT? I wanna sit there. No, I wanna be by *Suzy* (names changed to protect the innocent. We had no Suzy at the party, but why is she always the popular girl?) Everybody IN! We are going to get our princess nails done so sit on down and we can be on our way.

Everyone found a seat, I turned up the radio and on our way we went. All the girls singing and cracking me up as they pretended to know all the words. Just as I’d imagined. Windows down. Girls singing. Rainbows and unicorns all around us.

We had a blast at the nail salon, after we got over the drama of picking out just the right color.

Pretty toes.

Even the boys tried to find just the right shade and ended up empty-handed. See, this is really, really hard!!

We headed home for cake and movies and popcorn and arrangements of sleeping bags. This is when it got supp-hhhhher fun for me!

We’d found a sleeping bag arrangement that seemed to work for us during movie time.

We then lost one girl since she didn’t want to spend the night.  This threw my daughter into a crying tizzy, “*Suzy* (names changed to protect the innocent) will not think my party was any fun!” (crying, screaming, overtired crying/screaming at 10:30 pm) FUN. I cuddled her and got cozy on the floor, thinking soon I will move up to the couch and spend the night downstairs with the girls. As one of the girls. Keeping an eye on my herd.

Then two of the girls *claimed* couches. Then they had the NERVE to fall asleep on these couches. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?? Remember, I’m still on the floor. Hard floor, carpet, then subfloor. Nothing like a tempur pedic, for my curious readers.

So these couch sleeping girls decide to stay sleeping. No waking up. No giggling. Sleeping. Here’s where my internal conversation starts:

You’re old. You can’t sleep on the floor tonight. All night. Tonight.

But you’re snuggled up real nice with your daughter, and if you move one of the girls off the couch they might wake up.

Then madness will ensue.

Then all the girls wake up.

Then no one ever sleeps. Ever.

Then you are in hell. Which is worse than your current hell.

Maybe you can sleep on the floor. Maybe it will be okay.

Why am I seeing rainbows and unicorns again? Is this how I will die?

What’s the sharp stabbing pain in my hip? What if I roll over? There, is that better? No, I don’t think that’s any better. Why are there now stabbing pains on both sides? When’s the last time you slept on the floor? Why did you agree to this slumber party? Are you drunk? Wait! It’s Cinco de Mayo and you didn’t have a margarita. If you have a margarita now, will that stop the shooting pains in your hip? Are those damn girls still sleeping on the couch! DAMN YOU all to hell.

And then it’s morning. 7am and the first girls are awake. Then everyone is awake. Apparently, it’s time for me to make pancakes but I can’t feel my body below the muffin top and cannot pull myself off the floor.  Can someone go get one of the sleeping asses boys from upstairs down here STAT to scrape my body up off the floor?

I finally made my way off the floor, pancakes were made and a friendship bracelet factory was opened on our dining room table. *Suddenly* it was 9:30 and the girls were gone. It was over.

Seems I’d survived, but I was exhausted. My hips were numb, my eyes were heavy, but my daughter was thrilled. She’d had an amazing time with her girls. Her fingers and toes were crackle polished and fancy. Another year of birthday parties are done.

And now for a public service announcement to my children: This was the Year of the Slumber Party. We are now done. We are not doing them again. Ever. As in EVER, ever. From here on out, 2 hour max on these parties. TWO! No more than two, possibly less than two.  Love always, Mommy

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