Two things terrify me to my core:
- The idea of being buried alive.
- My children asking for a sleepover party.
I have bravely hosted a sleepover twice, and honestly, that was two times too many. The details are hazy—trauma does that to you—but here’s a glimpse into what this emotional roller coaster looks like:
Denial
Before the festivities kick off, you pump yourself up with optimism:
- How bad can it possibly be?
- I have planned a plethora of fun activities.
- My child’s friends are delightful; they make wise choices.
- I make wise choices.
You pat yourself on the back for being the ultimate parent and picture yourself enjoying a quiet moment with a puzzle or maybe refinishing that old table while the kiddos are busy. #blessed
Complete Mayhem
The moment the guests arrive, Denial is tossed aside, making way for Complete Mayhem. Picture a room full of ten boys who are utterly AMPED for a sleepover! It’s like a chaotic farm scene, but the goats are on hyperdrive. They’re everywhere and nowhere: inside, outside, upstairs, downstairs, playing tag, glued to their phones, all while shouting things like, “My flashlight is broken!” or “I think I got stung by a bee!” and “I’m starving!” and “My sister has lice!” (Wait, what?!)
Then come the frantic inquiries:
- Where’s my phone?
- Do you have a charger? (Not that kind, buddy.)
- What kind of dog is that?
- Where’s Jake?
- Where’s my underwear?
- What’s that smell?
- Is it cake time yet?
Amidst this chaos, you ponder one pressing question: Where on earth did my partner go?
After what feels like an eternity (though it’s really just three hours), you manage to corral everyone into one room for a “calming” movie night with popcorn. You convince yourself this will lull them to sleep by midnight. Perfect plan, right?
Silly you! The film lasts a whopping nine minutes before they declare it “boring” and suggest wrestling, tossing items at each other, consuming more candy, and diving into intense Xbox games because YOLO!
After two more hours of mayhem, you embark on the long, grueling journey of “Please, Just Go to Sleep!” which leads to the inevitable stage of …
Anger
The anger phase spans from midnight until about 2 a.m. During this time, your cheerful persona shifts to that of a Stark-Raving-Lunatic Parent. After countless trips in and out of the room, bitter resentment sets in.
You’re now furious at:
- Yourself. (Really? Ten boys? Brilliant idea.)
- The movie for being utterly unentertaining.
- The creator of Xbox (or “that genius” as you’ve now dubbed him in your head).
- Your partner, who reappeared just in time for cake and then bailed after a barrage of silly jokes.
You’re also not too fond of:
- Bathroom Bandit: This kid has the bladder the size of a pea, interrupting everyone as he climbs over heads for his sixth bathroom break.
- Candy Overload Kid: The boy who gobbled candy three hours ago and now looks ready to hurl.
- Loud Whisperer: Just when the group is finally quieting down, this kid starts detailing a hilarious YouTube video, reminding everyone how terrifying the basement is in his best “I see dead people” voice.
- Phone Ninja: Despite confiscating all phones, this sneaky child has clearly hidden his, as it pings incessantly with texts. No one dares to expose him because he’s the unofficial hero of the night. PING!
Panic
Around 2 a.m., anger gives way to sheer panic as the realization dawns that sleep may elude everyone. You console yourself with alarming thoughts:
- What if they never go to sleep?
- What if they never go to sleep?
- What if they NEVER go to SLEEP?
Bargaining
In a last-ditch effort to salvage the night, you plead for mercy: “For the love of all that is good, please just go to sleep!” You even contemplate the “ugly cry” to guilt them into submission, but fear it may haunt their dreams. Anyone want a warm glass of milk? Maybe a brownie with a hint of Benadryl? Anyone? Please?
Despair
By 3 a.m., you realize this ordeal feels remarkably similar to childbirth. You’re drained, feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, and are not entirely sure if you’ve had an accident. To top it off, you’ll have to feed them in just four short hours. Much like childbirth, you hope the trauma fades away in a few weeks.
Acceptance
Somehow, you emerge the next morning just in time to greet chipper, well-rested parents picking up their kids. They enthusiastically share stories of their fun date nights and how lovely it was to sleep until 9 a.m. You assure them their children were little angels while you stand there, disheveled, mascara smudged, and pulling popcorn and what you hope is candy out of your hair.
Then your groggy, bed-headed child bounds over, gives you a bear hug, and says, “Thanks, Mom! That was a blast!” Same time next year? Absolutely!
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In summary, hosting a sleepover party is a wild ride filled with denial, chaos, and a rollercoaster of emotions. But despite the madness, those moments can create cherished memories, reminding us that parenting is never dull.