Dear Future Stella,
Current Stella had her first sleepover this past weekend. Her bestie, Tyler, spent the night at our house. They are only 4 years old so I was more than nervous to do this, mostly because most Moms scare the shit out of you when sharing their experiences with sleepovers. These same moms will totally encourage having multiple kids back to back. They will enthusiastically support sleeping with your kids. They smile and say “this too shall pass” when the topic of teething comes up. They think overseas flights with triplets that just learned to walk is totally doable with the right activities. But don’t you dare ever fucking allow sleepovers before age 10. The kids will burn down your house and never be the same again. They will try and escape through a window and make-out with the neighbor kids. They will try and murder you in your sleep. They will stay up longer than a group of people on cocaine. Maybe they will do cocaine. They will walk through your house and just knock shit off the walls. They will definitely try and flush your puppy down the toilet. Just don’t do it. I have heard some terrible things when it comes to sleepovers so naturally I was scared to death.
Tyler arrived at around 5:30pm and her parents came inside to have a drink and visit with us for a bit. I would like to think they wanted to hang out with us but they were probably just checking out the safety of the environment they were about to leave their child in overnight. I dug out the outlet covers from storage and plugged them in to all visible outlets. I stocked the fridge with organic food. I know how to play this game. I made Gin and Tonics with fresh grapefruit and a rosemary garnish. I made the necessary comment about how I could only have 1 drink so the parents would know that there would be a sober adult in the house (obviously, I had like 8 more once they left. Kidding. Sort of. More on that later).
Current Stella had a whole itinerary of things to do with Tyler. Tyler only eats pizza pockets (most likely banned by the time you read this) and chocolate chip pancakes. Best. Diet. Ever. Current Stella had the idea to make cheese pizzas. Both girls loved doing this but I got sidetracked building this golf activity that I over-cooked the pizza and ultimately ended up needing to microwave pizza pockets. Tyler was stoked. Current Stella didn’t eat dinner(strangely enough she doesn’t like pizza pockets), neither did I actually, which is a key part of the story that you will need to retain for later use.
I spent, I don’t know, 1/3 of an hour constructing this golf game that the girls played with for less than 3 minutes- standard and totally worth it. Next, Current Stella wanted to make cookies. This just means she wants to eat cookie dough and then leave me to make the cookies and then she will want one of the cooked ones as well. I am not a baker. I love to cook but building a dough of any kind is torture and waaaay too easy to mess up. I am a huge fan of paying out the ass for an item/service that I could technically do myself but have zero desire to do. In this case I paid 20 bucks for the dough for 12 cookies that I just had to plop on a cookie sheet and then take out of the oven after 12 minutes. The only thing I could do to mess this up was to not turn my oven to the right temp or get sidetracked and leave them in too long. Considering I just sabotaged the pizza, I was extra vigilant to not make that mistake with the cookies. We decided to make 6 cookies. That way we each got 1 and then there would be 2 leftover to give to Tyler’s sisters in the morning. Shockingly, I didn’t fuck this up and the cookies were delicious.
After that, Current Stella wanted to put her pajamas on, make popcorn, and watch a movie. Your Dad and I loved this plan because it meant we could just do what we normally do, which is hang out while she deals with herself. They both changed into their pajamas, Current Stella cooked the popcorn and they climbed into our bed to watch Frozen (so basic) . Around 9pm we came in and informed the well-behaved, mellow girls that it was bed time. They were fine with it and once they brushed their teeth and went potty they climbed the stairs into the loft bed. Right about now is when I began to think all those other Moms are insane. This was easier than liking a picture on Instagram. What’s the big deal?
Now is a good time to mention that my friend Kelly was having her birthday party that night. It was at this place called the Starlight Room which is this iconic San Francisco Dance Club at the top of the Sir Francis Drake Hotel. It sounded like a lot of fun and I adore Kelly and really wanted to celebrate her birthday. The girls seemed totally chill, your dad was completely fine with me going so I decided to leave the sleepover and attend the festivities while the girls peacefully slept. I told myself I would just have a couple drinks, dance for a minute, and head home in time to enthusiastically participate in chocolate chip pancake making in the morning. Instead, I was drinking vodka sodas like they were water, aggressively dancing on the dance floor and stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning.
I came bounding inside our apartment like someone had just spun me around 20 times and then instructed me to enter through the door like I was an elephant wearing tap shoes. Once I established where the walls were versus the door openings, I noticed two perfect looking cookies just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. The severity of my starvation hit me so hard that I had no choice but to inhale both cookies and find my way to my bed like a pin ball scoring a record breaking number of points.
I could not have been sleeping long when I heard the giggles of little girls creeping into our bedroom. This cannot be happening. I’m exhausted. I’m still drunk. I’m starving.
On a typical Sunday morning, Stella wakes up and pours herself Cheerios. She completely deals with herself. Sometimes she comes into our room to snuggle; if she does, I can usually get her to take the dogs out in the backyard. It’s absolutely glorious. Not this Sunday.
There are two, extra loud and vibrating mini ladies migrating around my bedroom. How long have they been there? Why does my mouth taste like a rancid bucket of vomit? Where are my clothes? What time is it? Am I having a nightmare? They were hungry the voices were saying, and bored. I start whipping your dad with my hand on his bare chest, my intentions being to motivate him to make the voices stop. My head was pounding. I was the kind of tired that makes your eyelids feel like they have been superglued shut. I couldn’t open them even if I wanted to.
Your dad began to understand the severity of the situation and reluntantly got out of bed to make the girls their pancakes.
This is when the guilt started creeping in and I knew I needed to get out of bed to at least attempt to enjoy the remaining hours of this sleepover.
I remember making it out to the living room. I must have dozed off into a deep sleep on the couch. I have snapshot memories of the girls coming into the room at various points but I just kept on sleeping.
The sound of the doorbell finally woke me from a deep sleep and I was dying to know what sort of brunch situation your dad had ordered. I peek through the door and realize it is Tyler’s mom, completely showered and looking normal, ready to pick her up.
Cool, so I’m wearing last night’s makeup, creepy pjs, and I have not brushed my teeth yet.
I let her and Tyler’s little sister into my home and we begin to exchange pleasantries. I can barely comprehend and my responses are socially awkward, at best. We make the long walk back to Current Stella’s room and I begin to panic because it has been hours since I have been back there. They could be running a meth lab/brothel for all I know. I open the door and even worse than I could even imagine, every single toy is piled on the ground. It looks ridiculous.
I manage to gather Tyler’s things into her bag and get Stella to say goodbye to her friend. Just when I can visualize myself back in bed, Stella gets excited and tells Tyler’s sister that we made her cookies to take home.
Awesome. Those cookies are long gone and don’t exist. Tyler’s sister is excited about her cookies. There are no cookies.
I just need them to leave my house so I can vomit and return to bed so I open our fridge, pull out the unused cookie dough and offer it to them as a parting gift. I explain that they are only good right after they are cooked so wanted them to have the full experience.
They fell for it, said thank you, and left.
I was hung over for the rest of the day.
Future Stella, I love you. Current Stella, your dad and I had the best date night ever tonight. I cannot wait to give you the deets.