What was I thinking when I scheduled a birthday sleepover for ten 10-13 year old boys while the Papa is out of town??
Well, with the way both of our travel schedules have unfolded this fall, there really was no alternative (except to "just say no" LOL). So I figure, hey, it's only a few hours, right? I can do anything for one night.
But now, with the clock at Sleepover minus seven hours and counting, panic is setting in. Especially since I also realized yesterday that 18yo ds, who was my "fall back plan," won't even be home! His band is performing somewhere tonight, which I'm sure is much more important than my eventual institutionalization for psychosis...but we'll see. Do they take you in an ambulance for something like that?
If this were a party for my girls, I'd be in the kitchen making petit-fours and canapes (well, all right, I'd have THEM in there doing all that!) and making sure we had a nice selection of special teas and pretty napkins. But no amount of culinary skill or sacrifice would mean as much to the bunch that we'll have here this weekend as does my freezer full of Bagel Bites, Mini-Beef Tacos, Pizza Rolls, Jalapeno-Cheese Nuggets, Chicken Taquitos, and a variety of chips and dips. Not the usual fare at Granny's House, but this is about them, right? I keep telling myself it's about the memories and not about the amount of preparation or the total grams of trans-fats.
And then I'm wondering, is it possible to OD on video games? No, I don't mean THEM, I mean those of us who have to listen to unending hours of those annoying noises that come from the speakers. What are those, anyway? I've speculated that it's a new language that only adolescent boys are using, one that females have not been genetically pre-programmed to decipher. Probably just as well.
So, if you think about me this weekend, look toward heaven and whisper a prayer that by the time the emergency vehicles arrive with the siren and the revolving lights and the restraint devices, that the boys will have accumulated enough great memories to last until next year, and that my sons will be grateful enough that they will come often during visiting hours.