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What slumber party lacked in sleep, it made up for in fun

THE OLYMPIAN | • Published November 29, 2009

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Our daughter recently hosted her first sleep-over party. She invited her three best friends to celebrate her ninth birthday. Here's how it went, with approximate times:

2:30 p.m.: We are driving to our old neighborhood, about 45 minutes away, to pick up one of my daughter’s dearest friends. They began playing together about age 2. They went through kindergarten and part of first grade together. When our family moved away, both of their hearts broke. But we’ve kept in touch with his family for the past two years. I’m fairly certain that our families will always be close.

4 p.m.: Grabbing a family-size cheese pizza from Papa Murphy’s should only take a few minutes, right?

My mother-in-law agrees to stay in the car with the kids while I run into the pizza store. I return almost a half-hour later. The car is rocking, the windows are steamed up, and the muffled kid-screams can be heard in the distance. Note to self: My mother-in-law is awesome. I owe her big time.

5:45 p.m.: We’re finally home. The neighbor girl has joined the party. With five kids around the table, there’s no room for my husband and I to eat pizza with everybody else. It’s one of those perfect moments that you live for as a parent – even though it’s noisy and the energy levels are high, everybody is getting along and having a great time.

Our daughter chooses one present to open early: It’s a “Wizards of Waverly Place” shirt. She loves it so much, she rips the tag off and puts it on over her other shirt.

6:45 p.m.: My husband and our youngest son stay home. The rest of us are off to see “A Christmas Carol.” While we’re outside the theater, we go over the rules: No talking during the movie, no begging for extra treats, and stay with a buddy at all times.

All three big kids ask if they can have bottled water instead of pop. Who are they, and what have they done with my daughter and her friends?

8:45 p.m.: We survive the movie. A few parts were a little on the spooky side for our older son, who is almost 5, but he stuck it out.

When we get home, we learn that our third guest isn’t going to make it. My daughter’s eyes well with tears.

9:13 p.m.: We take note of the time when our daughter was born exactly nine years before. “Honey, she’s officially halfway to 18 now,” I tell my husband. He cringes.

Our daughter oohs and ahhs over each of her presents: A pink Snuggie from her brothers (she puts it on immediately), a horse calendar and rose-patterned stationary set from our two dogs, a Wii game from our former neighbor boy and a plush horse toy from our neighbor girl.

The last present is a large plastic horse that looks just like the ones she’s been pining for in the American Girl catalog. She studies it for a few seconds.

“So is this an American Girl horse or what?” she asks.

“Sort of,” I answered. “It’s a Target-brand American Girl horse.” She squeals, and runs up to her room to get her American Girl doll, which would have been much cheaper had I known there was a knock-off version back when I bought it.

10 p.m.: Talk about gender differences. The girls are in the hallway, brushing the horse’s mane and tail and brainstorming possible names for it. Meanwhile, the boys are in the living room, gathering up jump-ropes, toy guns and swords. I’m pretty sure they’re devising a plan to steal that horse.

11 p.m.: I’ve finished chopping up all of the goodies for our chocolate fountain, which is the treat we’re doing instead of a birthday cake. I don’t know where the instruction booklet is, so I text my sister-in-law for the recipe to use chocolate chips and oil instead of the expensive fondue-type melting chips.

11:30 p.m.: After several minutes of watching chocolate sputter and splash but never flow down the tiered system, I realize that my fountain doesn’t look the same as the one on the box. The top two sections are upside down. What a mess! This is why I’m usually not left alone in a kitchen.

11:50 p.m.: The fountain is fixed, and the kids are now having an amazing time covering strawberries, bananas, Fuji apple pieces and pound cake with melted chocolate.

We set our fondue sticks down to sing “Happy Birthday” to my daughter just before midnight. Apparently the “you smell like a monkey” version never goes out of style because that’s what the boys sang.

12:30 a.m.: The new Wii video game was the perfect way to burn off all of that sugar. Meanwhile, our now-chocolate-covered 2-year-old has fallen asleep in the recliner. He wants to be one of the big kids so bad, but sometimes his body just won’t let him.

1 a.m.: The 4-year-old has crashed, too. He was glad that his little brother fell asleep before he did.

1:30 a.m.: My daughter wants to play Monopoly, but the other two kids want to play Scrabble. When the argument gets heated enough to interrupt my ability to watch TV in the living room, I announce that it’s time to brush teeth and go to bed.

5 a.m.: Our neighbor girl wakes up, and says she wants her parents. My husband walks her home. We later find out it was her first sleepover at someone else’s house, and she was homesick.

9 a.m.: The kitchen table is full again with kids drinking instant breakfast. Our daughter’s sleepover was so successful, there’s talk of another one in the future.

Former Olympian reporter Lisa Pemberton is busier than ever with her three children. She can be reached at lisapemberton@rocketmail.com.