The Sleepover From Hell

Harkening back to the weekend, when I got home on Saturday afternoon, to my chagrin the house was still full of children. So much for my specific instructions to have everyone gone by the time I returned. I think this was Rob's attempt at payback.

Somehow Lindsay talked me into letting the seven girls stay for a sleepover. Those damn Bacardi Breezers are my weakness - I'm not sure at that point if I'd had too many of them or not nearly enough. Now I'm sure my husband hates me. He is blowing up air mattresses whilst fixing me with a steely eyed glare - definitely not a happy little camper. Somewhere in town, there are seven sets of parents, all thinking the same thing about us "Losers !".

Who knew that teenagers could find enough to talk about until 4:00 O'clock in the morning !!!  At top volume no less. Unbeknownst to this gaggle of girls, the heating duct directly above their heads was connected to the duct beside my bed, so I heard pretty much most of the conversation - what I could understand at least. I'm sure teenage girls have their own private language. I would love to give you some insight in to the secret world of teenagers, but unfortunately my poor sleep deprived brain can't remember anything - except for looking longingly at the clock every few minutes, begging for the noise to abate so that I could get to sleep. Of course that didn't stop me from telling the girls over breakfast that I had heard everything that went on. It was so worth it to see half of them turn white with shock and the other half blush bright red. At least a couple of them sidled up to me after, and whispered "Did you really hear everything?". Payback's a bitch, and you don't mess with the master. It didn't impact their appetite tho', I have never seen three packets of bacon and a mile high stack of pancakes disappear so fast.

Apparently they were having so much fun no one wanted to go home, despite my frequent and apparently way too subtle offers of giving everyone a ride home. They all agreed that we were awesome parents, apparently based solely on the fact that their (obviously much smarter) parents would never have allowed all the ruckus we had tolerated. I'm not sure whether we should feel honoured or duped. Eventually, the fond farewells began, with cries of  "I'll text you later". Really ?  Are you kidding me ? What can they possible have to text about after talking non-stop for near on 24 hours ?

If Lindsay's short temper was anything to go by this afternoon, I'm guessing there are now seven sets of parents somewhere in town, who aren't feeling quite so smug any more ! 


.