I hate, loathe, and despise sleepovers at my house. Actually, I don't like them at other people's houses either. My children come home in a cranky stupor, probably coming off their sugar high from whatever they consumed at midnight. These horrendous nights should be called sleeplessovers, since no one involved gets their required eight hours of zzzzz's.
When they're at my house, I always start off happy and sugar-free. I want to be the 'cool' mom; the one with the latest movies and homemade popcorn. I set the kids up in the basement with my good comforters. I make sure they have what they need, dim the lights, and then I leave them be. Things change, though, during the course of the night, and I don't do well with change.
I start off with comments like, 'Please don't do that, sweetie. It's time for bed.' I end off with comments like, 'Shut your mouth and don't expect any of your friends to be invited here again...ever!' It doesn't even matter who it is that's sleeping over. It could be a close friend, a school friend, even my niece. My children just act like animals on a day-pass from the zoo. They fight over who sleeps next to the friend and which pillow the friend will use.
They end up in their own beds, crying themselves to sleep and preparing for battle again in the morning; which also ruins the day after the sleepover. It's a torturous thing, having a plethera of children together for so many hours.
In the morning, my husband always calls from work to say something like, 'I told you so.' Well, if he ever wants a sleepover again, he'd better shut his mouth too.