I Had 11 Pre-Pubescent Boys Sleep at My House — And I Lived to Tell the Tale

During a 1 ½ hour drive on Labor Day weekend, my husband and I decided we should get a dog and that we should have our son Danny invite all 17 kids coming to his birthday party to spend the night. No, we weren’t drunk. But I still suspect our Starbucks might have been laced with Prozac.

The dog worked out great. The sleepover had its moments.

Luckily, of the 17 boys invited only 11 stayed over, which was fitting since Danny was turning 11.

Before the party started, I was feeling nostalgic. I might even have teared up as I made my Funfetti cake. These were boys I’d known since kindergarten — two since preschool. They were adorable boys that were all still good friends, even though two had left for other schools and all of them would be dropped into the bigger pool of middle school in just a year. This was like a celebration of friendships, of grade school, of good times.

And then the little fuckers descended.

Here are some learnings from that “epic” night:

· Boys need leashes more than puppies do. At one point three kids ditched my husband at the park (where he had taken them all for an evening run while the dog and I stayed peacefully on the couch). Don’t worry, eventually they returned. They always do.

· Boys eat more than most giants. After three extra large pizzas, cake and ice cream cake, they ate about 70 bags of chips (yes, they were individual sized but still). Then they all had In and Out. And then more chips. When we put a box of donuts on the table the next morning, it was like vultures descending. And yet they don’t have an ounce of body fat. I gained 5 pounds by looking at a bag of Doritos that same night.

· Boys get smelly around this age. A room of eleven pre-pubescent boys is ripe. I kept blaming the puppy, but it wasn’t her. Load up on the Old Spice, sailor.

· Boys love stupid movies, especially ones that have exciting words like “boob” in them. And if they all tell you Dumb and Dumber Too is fine…maybe you shouldn’t believe them.

· Boys — even screaming, farting, insane pre-pubescent ones — are still babies at heart. One of the best surprises of the sleepover was that my son and his friends actually were cool with my husband and I being around them. They wanted us to watch YouTube videos with them. Danny even had his arm around me for part of the night.

Sometimes it’s easy to think that hey, my kid is almost in middle school, he walks places alone now, he is in full control of all bodily functions (most of the time), he does his homework on his own, he doesn’t especially need me any more.

And then you spend a half-hour with a bunch of loud, smelly kids who have smashed chips all over your floor and not given a damn, and they all give you the same goofy smiles as you watch videos that try (and succeed) in making everyone laugh, and you realize that no one ever really grows up. We all need our parents, we all want love and affection. We’re all babies at heart.

And that’s what makes the world such a great place, even when the Prozac wears off.

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