When I was 8, parents were feared. I don't know why when I look back. They were all nice people, but they were adults and I was a child. I was also very shy. I didn't talk to parents unless I had to. It was mostly, "Is so-and-so home?" and then we would run to her bedroom or outside to play.
So, my tale. It involves Mr A and his first sleepover. I emphasis the "sleep" because there was none for him or me...
First he asked that Miss R go to bed early because she's a little flirty 5 year old and was excited to watch "Where the Wild Things Are" with the boys. I finally get her to bed (after the movie was over) and get Mr C and Mr A all snuggled in on the couch. One at each end. Mr A sleeps with no shirt and he says no pants, but we said Yes pants. The boys fall asleep around midnight. I lay down and was woken up 30 minutes later with a scream and "dude that's gross". Mr C managed to crawl to the other end of the couch and throw up all over Mr A's blanket. I admit, it's pretty gross. Mr A ran to the bathroom and said he wasn't coming out until it was all clean.
I got Mr C cleaned up and settled back onto his end of the couch. I scrubbed that nasty stuff out of the couch and then took all the blankets and towels to the washer for a spin on sanitary cycle. I finally got Mr A out of the bathroom and he said he wanted to sleep with Mr N, my 4 year old. We made a space for him, I asked if he was OK and then went back to bed.
10 minutes later, I hear "Heather?" Deep sigh and I get up. "Can you spray something? It still smells like puke". I search around and find some vanilla spray and spray the couch, the hallway and the bedroom he's sleeping in. I ask if he's OK and go back to bed.
30 minutes later, I hear sobbing. I jump out of bed thinking that Mr C is throwing up again and it's Mr A crying. He's telling me, "First Miss R wouldn't go to bed and then Mr C threw up on me. I'm having nightmares now". We talk for a little while and then he says he's ready to go to sleep. I think it's about 2am now.
30-45 minutes later, I wake up with Mr A standing next to my bed. He wants to go home. I'm trying to figure out how to do this. I know his Mom gets up in an hour to go to work. I send her a text message asking if she's awake. I tell Mr A I need to get some sleep before I start crying. I so need some straight hours of sleep. I don't get a reply and tell him, "it's almost morning. Marc will make pancakes and everything will be better". He agrees to go back to bed.
Whew. I fall back asleep only to get a reply text (my phone is in the other room and will beep every 10 minutes until I check it). I ignore it at first, then finally get back up to check it. I tell his Mom that he's finally asleep (it's 4:30am) now and I think we are fine.
I sleep peacefully until 8:30 and Mr A wakes up a few minutes later. Since we all "slept" in, Marc was already at work and now it's up to me to make breakfast. I'm a cereal kind of Mom, so it was an "Ugh" morning after and "ARRGGH" night. But, we survived and I even allowed this boy to stay the night another time. But, when he woke me up at 2am to go home, I told him to get dressed, I got dressed and we got in the car. I called the parents on my way there and dropped that boy off. I went home and slept through the rest of the night. 8 must be too young to be away from Mom and Dad (for some kids. Mine, they are more than happy to get out of here. We've never had to do a pick up).
Well, that's my flogging story that links up with the brilliant Brenda at Mummy-Time. Feel free to go read her blog, link up and find some other great blogs to read. I have all the old "Flog your Blog" links at the top of this page if you want to look through. Or click on the "Flog your Blog" meme in my side bar.
I just found a new blog from her list to