Thanksgiving has us thinking of circles — circles of love, circles of family, circles of friendship, circles of life . . . and now you’ve got The Lion King song blaring through your head. You’re welcome.
What Thanksgiving didn’t leave us with was a lot of spare time for blogging. Erin and her brood spent the better part of the week with her family only to drive back for two and a half hours to drop her girl child off at Ellen’s house for Jellybean’s (12) rockin’ sleepover. This sleepover went much smoother than some in the past and for that Ellen is grateful. With 14 girls there was the potential for much to go wrong.
So we’re thankful that Monday Listicles only required us to share 10 photos from our cell phones. THAT we can handle.
Ten Circles
1. Circling Above
Smithsonian Institution National Museum of Natural History
2. Dupont Circle Studs
Renaissance Hotel Lobby Dupont Circle Washington DC
Erin’s Aunt makes each kid their own pie for Thanksgiving dinner Yummy AND sweet!
9. Psychedelic Circles
Cloud Gate aka “The Bean” Chicago, IL
10. Grammatically Questionable Circle
Found on the Christmas Bazaar Baked Goods Table
So in the end, we are thankful for being able to find the funny in every day. We are also grateful to Jessica Betke at Jesse’s Spot for making blogging fun and easy this week. We love ecards too and her funny Thanksgiving post made us giggle. Finally, this week and every week, we are also appreciative of Stasha for providing such a fun place to land every Monday.
These words drag me from the disorienting sludge of shortened slumber. As I crack the surface of 4 AM consciousness, my dread is joined by horror as I remember…
WE ARE HAVING A SLEEPOVER.
Ellen: There I was tip-toeing through a quagmire of adolescent bodies to the far corner of the basement with my 11 year old daughter solemnly guiding my footfalls as if we were traversing rope bridges on our way to golden treasure.
Erin:Wake up, Sister, because that seems awfully poetic for what actually went down.
Ellen: Okay, so I was stomping on fingers and crushing toes, crinkling my plastic grocery bags all the way, stumbling to get to the pile of chunder. There may have been some muttered swearing.
Erin:May have been?
Ellen: Whatever. While I deserve pity, you can hold onto it. As I’m dislodging dripping blankets and cleaning vomit off a foot attached to a miraculously still sleeping child, all by the glow of a dying flashlight, I had time to reflect that…
THIS WASN’T EVEN MY WORSE SLEEPOVER EXPERIENCE!
Erin:Get out!
Sleepwalking Authenticity Tip: Don’t Hold Your Arms Out!
Ellen: That prize belongs to the Sleepover of 2009 with the fake sleepwalking event.
Erin:Oh. My. Blessed. Psychopaths.
Ellen: Once again I am dragged from sleep, this time with the awful words “Clementine hurt herself.”
Erin:That is one bad wake-up.
Ellen: I know! I fly down the stairs to find Clementine on the floor twitching. Ten pairs of hysterical eyes turn towards me as I’m blasted with a cacophony of hysteria that blew my hair back.
Erin:Was she having a seizure!?!
Ellen: Just wait. Story was that Clementine was sleepwalking and then fell down on the ground twitching.
Erin:Holy crap! Were you freaking out?
Ellen: No, because I was in the presence of the most artfully laid out “passed out seizing person” I had ever seen. And her “seizures” were dissynchronous flailing.
Erin:In English, please.
Ellen: She wasn’t doing it right. She hadn’t even been asleep long enough to be in the stage of sleep for sleepwalking.
My skating was bad because of the shoelace! You can see the truth in my Maybelline spackled eyes.
Ellen: Um, no. My quick diagnosis was my undoing. I should have called her bluff and called her mom to pick her up, but all I could hear was the Siren song of my bed. So I went to peel her eyelid back, prompting her to spring higher than a June bug on a hot griddle, and proclaimed her a faker.
Erin:She was having a serious Tonya Harding moment.
Ellen: You got the picture right. But Clementine stuck to her story, the girls were freaked out, and many thought I was a bit of a slacker mom. Months later she came clean, but to this day I can’t understand why she would take a practical joke so far as to get me involved. She knew me well. She knew I did not suffer fools.
Erin:When I was a kid, we did everything in our power to keep the parents out of our business.
Ellen: I know. Crazy.
Erin:Well, I see your Münchausen Maestra and raise you some Male Melodrama. We still refer to the Guitar-Hero-Head-Bashing-Daniel-San-Channeling-Mommy-Tattling-Cluedog-Erin-Cell-Phone-Debacle of 2010 as the Mother of all Mishaps.
Why you gotta hate on llamas?
Ellen: Oh my. So drama is not only for girls and llamas?
Erin: Noooo! Less than TWO hours into my then 14 year old son’s sleepover birthday party, I receive not one but two phone calls from mothers.
Ellen: Come again?
Erin:It seems that in the ten minutes it took for me to set up the trough to feed the herd, Boregard allegedly kicked Bubba in the head while he was playing Guitar Hero.
Can’t you tell by his face that it was an accident?
Ellen: Well, I do understand the tendency to rock out whole-body-style during Guitar Hero, but . . .
Erin:Just wait. This gets better. So not only was there alleged physical violence, but both boys immediately called their Mommies UNBEKNOWNST TO ME who proceeded to then call me. At the same time. Yes, call-waiting was involved.
Ellen: At this point, were you checking for spy-cams?
Erin: I had a disorienting Twilight Zone moment for sure. The whole situation broke me. I now think, without any trace of irony, that we should relegate sleepovers to the status of renewing your license—once every four years.
Ellen: Awww, come on. There are ways to put lipstick on this pig.
Erin:Confiscate cellphones with the fervor of a TSA agent when confronted with 4 ounces of shampoo?
Ellen: No. Put your rubber gloves away, but you might want to have your plan in place for how you are going to handle technology before the guests bust down the door. Really it can all be summed up in one Sisterhood Secret . . .
Erin: Right! Always remind your child (before and during the party) that if things are getting out of hand, they can quietly slip away and get you to be the heavy without any indication that ratting out took place. A little reminder of the rules makes for an excellent escape hatch.
Ellen: In addition to that epic piece of advice that is good for more than just sleepovers, we’ll leave you with one more–Stock up on some ear plugs.
