sleepover

My school-year youth is saturated with fond memories of sleeping over at friends’ houses… Staying up late watching crappy sci-fi movies… Playing endless rounds of Monopoly… Slipping into a silk nightie and having pillow fights, which invariably ended in a shower of down feathers and us rolling around on the bed laughing. I remember raiding pantries and cupboards for cookies, crackers, and chips. We were always over stimulated from too much sugar and too much caffeine.

Moms were always sweet and eager to please with plates of fresh brownies or bags of Taco Bell. Moms would timidly open the bedroom door and inquire as to our comfort and our needs. Then with a flash of a smile and a quick about-face they were gone. Like a benevolent New Testament god, moms were there to protect and serve.

The only uneasy element of sleepovers were dads. Dads never interacted with us. They would sit there in front of the tv with jaw clenched, forehead creased, and lip upturned in a predeveloped snarl. Dads were the silent threat. In general I did my best to avoid dads and dads did their best to avoid me. Inevitably, though, our paths would cross. I would try to diffuse the perceived hostility with a jubilant greeting and in return I would receive a non-descript grunt of acknowledgement. When our eyes met I could hear my friends’ dads’ thoughts, "Don’t fuck with me or I’ll take that harpoon gun that sits above the mantle and shoot you in your left eye. Just give me a reason." Like a vengeful Old Testament god, dads were there to punish and exile at the slightest perceived transgression.

Lori’s friend, Kelly, spent the night on Friday. Now I understand all those dads. That look on their collective faces wasn’t hostility, nor was it an implied threat. The look permanently carved on all of my friends’ dads’ faces was a complex overlay of annoyance, tolerance, apprehension, apathy, and detached humor. Having another needy child in the house is annoying, but I will tolerate the pesky guest because she makes Lori happy. I become apprehensive because having two four-year-olds doubles the chances of something getting broken, spilled, or trashed. Apathy is my defense mechanism. Whatever, yo. If the girls color on the walls… whatever. If the girls don’t want to eat their dinner… whatever. If they want to stay up all night drinking my booze in the front yard and shouting obscenities at neighbors… whatever.

Once I got past the annoyance, tolerance, apprehension, and apathy, I found amusement in watching the children interact. As an observer, dress-up, play fighting, tea parties, dolls, etc, are boring. However, watching personalities meld, as the girls develop leadership roles and work through conflict, is amusing.

This wasn’t Lori’s first sleepover, and it won’t be her last. I guess I need to prepare for 14 more years of her friends intruding on my personal space and staying the night. Maybe on those nights I’ll lock myself in my bedroom and huff glue all night. That will make life easier for me, it always does.
...and so it was written, shenry at 7/21/2003 10:45:00 AM.
...and so it was appended with .