I barely escaped with my life.
By now, I’m used to being outnumbered by those of the female persuasion. Normal ratios at my house are 4 to 1. However, tonight was far from normal, my friends, far from normal. Daughter numero uno is finally celebrating her 12th birthday, almost a month late. And it’s a slumber party.
This, I am rapidly discovering, is a completely different beast than the sleepovers of just a few years ago. This is 7 middle school girls in all their giggling glory. This is music and iPods and make up.
So there I sat, enjoying the experience, contentedly consuming my spaghetti. The ratio sat quietly at 10 to 1. I realized I’ve known most of these girls since they were born, and I’m really enjoying watching them become young women. We finish the dinner, savor the dessert, and watch Talli open presents.
And then Elaine left me.
Ok, true, we did the Quaker vow thing when we got married. But I thought the “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, through romantic dinners and middle school slumber parties” was implied! Oh no. Oh no. She left me. She left me with a little smile, and one word to the girls: “Now, you be nice to him. He’s the only boy.”
It was like pouring a vial of blood into a pool of sharks. It was a feeding frenzy, a gory attack.
They say a picture paints a thousand words, so I’ll let the picture speak before I get to a thousand words. Ok, I’ll give one more sentence before the picture:
“Can we give you a makeover?”
In person, I sort of looked like a cross between Groucho Marx and Phyllis Diller. That’s not a look you aim for.
Here are the adorable little sharks who did this to me.
By the way, if you see me in person tomorrow, don’t look at my toes…
Thank-you, Gregg- I REALLY needed a laugh today!
Tanya
Oh. My.
I thought playing Pretty, Pretty Princess was gender-bending enough. But, you, my friend, have taught me otherwise. Thank you for your bravery. Thank you for teaching me that Michelle is not allowed to leave the house for any reason when a “slumber” (what an oxymoron!) party is planned.
The thing that surprises me most here is that two people actually found the words to make a comment. You have just stepped into a new realm of giggling, nocturnal energy, and hormonal volatility. Good luck friend.
Ah yes…but you haven’t yet experienced this little hormonal pod turning on each other in the middle of the night, angry over some major offense, snatching up their pillows and sleeping bags and moving to some “other” spot to sleep, far away from the offending party. Such memories…
Welcome to the world of raising girls, my friend. It couldn’t happen to a better person.