Surviving the Sleepover Birthday Party

Surviving the Sleepover Birthday Party

I know moms (and dads) who love the chaotic, crazy, unpredictable world that kids create. These are parents who can tolerate a messy house. They enthusiastically invite friends into their homes. They host sleepovers and birthday parties. (Why?) They don’t care if their dining room chairs are sticky or their beds unmade. I’m not that Mom. I’m just not. Never have been. Which makes me think, maybe I was never a good fit for this parenting gig. To be clear, now that I have them, I couldn’t imagine a world without my children. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without them. And yet. And yet. There are certain days when I think to myself, what the hell were you thinking?

Today is one of those days. Last night my three-year-old wet the bed, and because she also wet her beloved giraffe blankie, and refused to go back to sleep without him, I spent an hour doing laundry at 2 a.m. After that, she woke up twice asking me to adjust her blanket. After that, I said fuck it, I guess I’m up for the day.

So I’m already in a foul mood because I’m running on four hours of sleep. Again. But today I’m really feeling it. Because today just happens to be my 11-year-old’s “epic” birthday party sleepover. It was the only gift he wanted. So despite my OCD and strong dislike of having other children in my home, I gave in to his wish. I got all the party supplies and cleaned the house. I rid the pantry of anything that might come close to containing tree nuts. I managed to find and make nut-free cupcakes.

No tree nuts here!

I will allow the boys upstairs for cupcakes and present opening. And I guess I’ll have to let them up to use the hall bathroom. Other than that, I’m hoping not to see my son or his friends until the morning. (Thankfully, I have a husband who is willing to hang out with the boys and make sure they don’t do anything too crazy, and a semi-finished basement in which to contain all the craziness.)

Preparing for Battle 

It’s not just that the boys are loud and messy and outnumber me. It’s that they’re ALL THESE THINGS AND they smell like dirty socks, talk with their mouths full of food and tend to knock over stuff without meaning to. Don’t get me wrong, these are great kids. They’re always sweet and polite. It’s just when they’re in a group, hyped up on Skittles and root beer, that they get out of control. They can’t help themselves.

But I’m ready for them. I just got back from Target, where I bought earplugs, a first aid kit and Clorox wipes. I also stopped at the liquor store, where I purchased a case of wine. After I put my three-year-old to bed, I will grab the wine (bottle not glass) and a giant bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos and ride out the storm watching season two of “Stranger Things,” from the safety of my living room. In case any of the boys get the idea to take their Nerf Gun fight upstairs, I’ve secured the border with a barrier of mixed nuts. I know for a fact they won’t dare cross that.

 

 


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