I SURVIVED!!! (Looooonnnnnggggg . . . .)

--my kiddo's ninth birthday party and sleepover. YAY!
--oh, and this is my reminder to never do it again! YAY!
--And I didn't even have to resort to drinking to get through it! Double YAY!

Wow. The last few days have been nutso! All I have to show for it is a new batch of pimples and a dirty house! Yes, Virginia, you still get pimples even when you are pushing the big 5 0. Everything worked out pretty well if I do say so myself. :-)
--HINT: have plenty of craft projects to do.

I wanted to limit the number of kids so I put the cap at five girls--five eight- and nine-year-olds--so, of course, we invited seven.
--What is it with parents these days? Do they not know what RSVP means? Out of seven kids, we had only THREE parents who actually told me their kid was coming. The one decline, which I wouldn't have expected a call from, but heard about from my daughter. That left three unknowns. Now, my kiddo came home and told me that her friends were coming, but I didn't have positive confirmation. *sigh* I know this is the 'new' trend, but still the invite had RSVP, Not Regrets Only.

We had a total of six kidlets and only room enough for four in my car and that's if I left the hubster at home, so we roped in Grandma and Grandpa to help chauffeur the kiddos to the movie theater--about a mile away. We split the kidlets up and arrive at the movies about fifteen minutes prior to show time, only to discover one pimply teenager issuing tickets and a line of people heading out the door.
--What's a parent to do? Well, you leave the hubster in line and crash through the non-existent ticket takers and find seats in the theater. Luckily--most of the people in line were heading to NEW MOON and not PLANET 51.
--found out later that the weaselly manager kept poking his head out asking the kid selling tickets if he needed help, and then he would disappear back into his little room, leaving the kid alone to sell tickets. What a jerk wad manager.
--Now, my job, and the grandparents, was to contain six giggly girls to their seats without tying them down AND keeping their feet off the chairs in front of them. Oh, and they managed to scare away one family in the process who moved down about five rows. I wonder why??

The movie was good. The kids liked it. It was a tribute to a TON of movies: STAR WARS, ALIEN, BACK TO THE FUTURE, THE RIGHT STUFF, blah, blah, blah.

We arrived home. Grandma and Grandpa drove away as soon as the coast was clear. The kidlets went nutso. And hubster went for pizza.

Kids ate. We gained another kidlet. Sang HAPPY BIRTHDAY. Opened prezzies. Did craft. I went ballistic during the gazillionth blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream. Yes, I lost it.
--But you have to give me credit: 1) I didn't hit anyone, including my own kid, 2) I didn't resort to drinking. :-)
--I KNOW kidlets are loud and when you get a gaggle of them, especially girls, there is a lot of screaming, but even I have my limits. Uh, the kidlets kept the noise to a normal dull roar--for a gaggle of girls.

One kidlet left, not the same one who arrived late, but another one who had to go out of town early the next day. Of course, since this kidlet's mom was my kidlet's teacher, the gaggle had to show her around and introduce her to our fat guinea pig, Rocky, the cat, Kato, the dog, Katie, the koi living in the pond in the back yard, and Blinky our beta. Yeah, no secrets from the teacher, I'm surprised they didn't show her my laundry basket, but I digress.

We got the kidlets into their jammies and made them brush their teeth, but honestly didn't expect them to sleep until midnight or so.
Fast foreword: Make that three AM when I when ballistic (again) and told them to SHUT IT. Of course it was my kid and a neighbor kid. My kid asked if they could laugh. "NO!" I growled. Silence and peace reigned until eight AM. Out of the six remaining kidlets, I think a couple would sleep while the others chattered, and then it rotated around the group, with them periodically coming into our room to complain that 'so-and-so was talking and keeping her awake.
--Of course, my butt was out of bed at six, but that's my quiet time: coffee, paper, Farmville.
--It was a successful sleepover because two of the kidlets have had some issues in the past with sleeping overnight, and they successfully managed it. YAY!

Next morning, hubster made pancakes. The kids got dressed. We did another craft. We painted Christmas ornaments with stained glass paint. It's pretty cool . . . until the first one shatters on the tile kitchen floor. Two more of my practice ones bit the dust when hubster vacuumed up the glass and he bumped his butt into the foam holder. Oh, well there's plenty of paint.

The kidlets played upstairs and went home one by one, until we were left with our little peanut. We had a short downtime until the kidlet had to play a soccer game. Last game of the season and we figure out she is a GREAT defensive player! Oh, well, there's spring season.

We had to leave the game early to attend my niece's baby shower. So we trundle over to Grandma Sullivan's house to change and pick Grams up. The shower was at another niece's house, so we got the grand tour. My kidlet spent the entire shower taking pictures. Not bad for a nine year old, huh? We brought her Nintendo DS, just in case, but didn't need it. When we got home it was time for our presents: an angel afghan she wanted me to make, two Beverly Cleary books, and a CAMERA!! She was ecstatic!

Needless to say, we were in bed at eight. They others slept until 8:30, but I was up at 6:20. Hey, it's what I do.
--We only ended up with one extra pair of socks. Not too bad.

So during our soccer game, a friend set up a morning exercise get-together on Monday. She jogs . . . like a lot . . . and I don't. Over the years, exercise has become a bad word. It's sad really because I used to TEACH aerobics in the 80's and rode my horse for over twenty years until I sold him about five years ago.

So this will be my first foray into the walk/jog program.

I survived a gaggle of girls, but the next question is . . . can I survive jogging?

Until Wednesday, Write On!