It's Not a Sleepover Until Somebody Cries

Girl sleepovers are inherently different than boy sleepovers.  Anyone who has both girls and boys knows this.  In my family, the rule is that I supervise all girl stuff:  mani/pedis, bra shopping, shoe shopping (okay, fine, all shopping), hair salons, cheerleading practice, and, yes, sleepovers.  My husband handles all boy stuff:  grunting at sports games, supervising (*koff koff* playing!) video games, and, yes, sleepovers.  

Supervising sleepovers for girls looks like this:

1.  Spend 4 hours the day before making The Chart of where everyone will be sleeping, trying to keep all BFFs together and people who are in a fight away from each other.  Why does the Free World not know that mothers who've done this successfully could solve the logistic problems of the entire Middle East?

2.  Greet all girls with a hug and smooch and tell them how their shoes are super awesome and their hair looks fabulous.

3.  Show them where the food is and make sure to point out that there is chocolate.  

4.  Get out The Sleeping Chart and emphasize that it is to be followed.   

5.  Turn on horrifyingly terrible music that will give you a migraine for the next 12 hours.  Turn it up to level 8 and leave the room so the girls can have fun.

6.  Realize that the girls just turned the music up to level 12.  Go in search of Excedrin.

7.  After an hour, hear arguing and go take a peek to see what's up.

8.  Find that The Sleeping Chart has been thrown out the window and 3 girls are crying.  The room is split like it's Survivor Bonus Room and they are trying to vote someone off the island.

9.  Try to intervene and diffuse.  Bob and weave.  

10.  Eventually get everyone calmed down, apologies given, forgiveness given, hugs all around.  World peace.  Quickly pass chocolate around in an attempt to keep the love going.

11.  Repeat #7 through #10 three more times, roughly every other hour or so.  

12.  They finally fall asleep somewhere around 3 am with 3 girls in one of the bedrooms because they're not talking to 2 others, 2 girls smashed in the corner because they're not talking to 3 others, and the rest in the middle of the room.  I finally go to bed.

13.  I wake up to make pancakes and all of the girls file into the kitchen.  No one remembers why they were mad and start chatting excitedly about "what a great sleepover that was last night!"  

14.  Husband pulls me aside and asks if everyone's okay with all that crying the night before.

15.  Inform husband "It's not a sleepover until somebody cries."  It's just the way girls are.

16.  Husband informs me that he'd rather slit his wrists than be me.


Supervising sleepovers for boys looks like this:

1.  Buy as much food as you can afford.  Then buy a lot more.

2.  You can't greet the boys because they will run around to the backyard and go through the back door.

3.  They will eat, play video games, shoot hoops, eat, then ask for more food.

4.  Feed them again in the morning.

5.  Lesson:  Boys are too easily distracted to fight.  And also just don't care.  "You're a jerk."  "Dude!  That was rude."  "Oh, sorry."  "Ok, let's shoot hoops."

My husband thinks he is the luckiest man on Earth.  

But you know what I think?  I think my life is closer to girl sleepovers.  I greet life with open arms and general hope.  I try to chart out the right path that God wants me on, and then that generally doesn't work out (right?).  I have struggles and arguments and make-ups.  I try to forget the hard stuff in the morning and move on.  But one thing is for certain:  It's not life until somebody cries.  Because you have to do that to get to the pancakes in the morning.  

Oh, and always.  Always!  Remember the chocolate.