The Rapture

The morning after... the sleepover from hell.

I thought it was a good idea.  I was the first to brave a group sleepover with a bunch of six year olds. I’m a fucking moron.... an exhausted one at that.

It started all right.  I filled them with pizza and Sprite.  No biggie.  The Ex came over to help chaperone the beasts.  That was a fucking failure.  He stood, catatonic, on the outskirts of the chaos.  A deer in headlights that didn’t lift a finger to help.  

The first movie was a failure.  The panic started creeping in as anarchy began.  (Once again, The Ex sat there... drooling).  I saved the day with Kung Fu Panda.  Mid movie I served ice cream cake.  More sugar!  All was well until the movie ended.  The kids were fucking riled up.  All of the sudden they were all Bruce Lee (minus coordination, skill and proprioception).  Once the pseudo violence began The Ex curled into the fetal position.  

Let me step back a moment.   Once the pack was established this was the breakdown of five:  Loud Kid, Narc/Softie, Know-it-all, Wallflower and Psycho Birthday Boy (mine).  

Did I mention... we also have four dogs right now.  One is a vicious three-legged dachshund who loves to attack children.  Just to add an element of surprise and danger she was randomly released from her prison in the bedroom.  I caught her, several times, eyeballing the fresh meat, ready to take a bite. 

The Softie kiddo has an “attentive” mommy (who might I mention, isn’t fond of me).    Of course, as luck might have it, Softie took a knee to the face during the Kung Fu fighting.  There was no apparent damage and blood hadn’t been shed (typically my requirements for intervention).  Within 30 seconds my cell phone beeped - his mom was picking him up in 10 minutes.  FUCK!  A pack of ice and a little bribery later... good as new.  Not.  

So,  one down... four to go and 13 more hours of hell.  

Loud Kid, I predict, will be the chubby, beer guzzling frat boy who has an affinity for getting naked in public.  (Don’t get me wrong I like all of these kids - I’m just honest).  At one point I caught him naked, underwear on head, streaking through the basement.  What did I tell ya?  

Know-it-all, well, he knew everything and was kind enough to inform me of my mis-guidance.  In his superior state he DOES NOT have to listen to rules and threats are mere suggestions of the invalid kind.  That shit didn’t fly and little dude lost his cake privileges (Ashley - 1, Know-it-all - 0).  He then informed me, “I don’t like cake anyway.”  (Reset... 0-0).  Since rules didn’t apply to this nimble little kiddo I found him hanging from the second floor banister on several occasions. 

Wallflower... did nothing of interest.

Psycho Birthday Boy.  Well, he’s fucking crazy but I’m used to his bullshit.  

8:20pm - Kids call parents and pretend they are going to bed.

8:30pm -  Ex was excused.  I think he was crying.

9:00pm - Diabolically bad RockBand with temporary breaks between fighting for instrument domination.

9:40pm - I naively thought that leaving the crazy bastards in a room, they would just fall asleep.  Not the case.  

10pm - Me (mentally) chanting... “I will not be defeated.  I will NOT be defeated.” 

10:30pm - Blatant begging for peace and quiet. (Repeated many times)

10:34pm - Praying for ascension!!

10:40pm - Rearranging living room into sleeping space because all the kiddos migrated upstairs.

10:50pm - Exhaustion and narcolepsy kicking in.  Flashbacks of infancy as I try to soothe four exhausted, sugar crashing kids.  

10:51 - Final decision made.  I DO NOT want more kids.  

10:55pm - One down, three to go.

10:56pm - Two crying (one is me).

11:20pm - Four asleep.  I decide to sleep in living room to 1) avoid the possibility of one sleep walking into traffic 2) to keep them safe from three-legged Cujo in case she escapes.  

5am - First kiddo ready to eat, play and drive me crazy.

Morning spent cleaning urine out of new wool carpet in living room.  Fucking priceless.