At What Point Do You Call the National Guard?

I am so tired.  Really completely exhausted.  This weekend was Sassy’s 7th birthday and we had an incredibly full weekend.  Friday evening was her Fine Arts night for her school – she was singing and dancing as a firefly and an ant.  Saturday The Bandit had a soccer game and then Sassy had a ballet recital – this time she was cotton candy.  Sunday we had a dinner with the family at my mom-in-law’s house.  But the big event, the one I am still trying to recover from, was Saturday. 

Sassy had a slumber party.  I really have no one to blame but myself.  I came up with the idea.  I tracked down the mommy’s and convinced them that My Honey and I are not pedophiles (or even Republicans for that matter) and we can be trusted with their children.  I came up with ideas to entertain them through the night: Twister, baking cookies, painting fingernails, and watching kid friendly movies.  Sassy and her friends were over-the-moon excited about the party.  By Friday, they were vibrating.

Over the course of the night the following occurred:

*Sassy decided everyone should meet Roscoe, the Idiot Dog, and I had forbidden her from letting him in the house.  I wasn’t so foolish to believe I could control 5 little girls and the maniac dog too.  All of them scurried out of the house and around the side to the gate – barefoot.  Then I got to perform minor surgery without the benefit of a scrub nurse, strait jacket, or Lidocaine to get all the stickers out of their feet.

*We had a major, major nose bleed.  I was dealing with girls in another room when the issue was brought to my attention.  I jogged down the hall to find blood all over the tile floor and an entire roll of bloody toilet paper in the toilet.  It took a good 15 minutes of dedicated ice application and nose pinching to make it stop.

*I was nagged incessantly about the fingernail painting before I finally got the stuff gathered to do it.  I no longer have varnish on my dining room table thanks to the now empty bottle of polish remover.

*Once the girls found the cat….well, life as he new it ceased to exist.  The cat is seeking enrollment in Witness Protection. Let’s just say they loved him very thoroughly.  They drove him absolutely crazy before I was able to kitty-nap him and shut him safely away in my bedroom. Even then, I had to shoo the girls out of my room several times and, at one point, out from under the bed that my husband was sleeping in all in an effort to drag the cat out from hiding.

*I found not one but two pieces of gum stuck to my kitchen floor.

*I dried tears when someone was mean to the birthday girl and later broke up a fight over a “crystal” rock that involved separatingthe combatants in different rooms.  More than once I channeled Rodney King with the “can’t we all just get along” speech. 

*At a quarter after midnight, I finally shut things down and demanded that the 3 girls that were still awake (including my own) go to sleep.  I collapsed into the restless sleep of a hunted criminal at 12:30.

*At 5:15 the next morning – less that five hours later – I was awakened with the news that one of the girls threw up.  Deep sigh.  I then did a load of laundry that included a sleeping bag, pajamas, two pillow cases and a pillow.  I also washed the girl and her hair.  Then I got the delightful and gag inducing honor of scrubbing the carpet.  I felt terrible for the poor thing and managed to smile and assure her that it was all OK.

*I made 346 waffles.  Some people informed me that they liked pancakes better and I assured them in no uncertain terms that waffles  and pancakes were the exact same thing – only with syrup reservoirs which is infinitely better than just plain pancakes.  Besides, short of being deathly allergic to wheat, butter, eggs or maple trees, they were going to eat waffles and they would like them.

*The party ended at 9am.  When one kid’s mom showed up, the little darling decided she didn’t want to go home so she hid.  It took us 15 minutes of searching to find her.  I was just relieved that her mother had actually seen her in my house that morning other wise I’m sure that she would have thought I lost her.  Anyway, I did that old bouncer routine – “Last call.  You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”  I finally found her under Sassy’s bed.

*All the girls except one were gone by 8:45.  I told My Honey that if that child’s mother wasn’t there by 9:01, said child would be sitting on the curb waiting.

I texted Kelli during the festivities.  While she did express sympathy, she also seemed dumbfounded why I would ever have agreed to the whole thing anyway, much less have come up with the notion myself. 

The experience was painful but, and I can’t believe I’m actually writing this down, it really wasn’t any worse than I expected.  Except for the blood and puke and the lack of varnish on my table – the girls were all well behaved if rambunctious and polite with their pleases and thank yous.

I wonder if a slumber party is like laboring to have a baby.  You know how nature allows you to forget how really wretched laboring was so that you’ll be willing to do it again?  Do you suppose I’ll be able to forget the trauma of this slumber party and allow my home to be infested with five squealing little girls again?

Not any time soon I assure you.   It seems to me it’s time for some other deluded mother to learn her lesson.