October 28, 2022

The rainy season has officially started in Portland. It’s a dreary, chilly, rainy day, and my whole body aches from the Covid bivalent booster I got yesterday. Fun.

I want to crawl into bed and sleep the achiness away, but instead I’m getting ready for my youngest daughter’s birthday party tomorrow. She’s invited three friends to go to the zoo with her, then come back to our house for a sleepover. This is the first official slumber party we’re hosting, and I’m excited about it, even if my body protests.

Our older daughter is going to a Halloween party, which is also a slumber party, so that fulfills the requisite “no siblings allowed” that each of the girls mandated for their parties this year. It’s a busy weekend for our daughters! 

I have so much nostalgia and even envy for sleepovers! Why don’t adults have them? (Um, can you even imagine a bunch of middle-aged moms giggling late into the night, snug in sleeping bags on the floor, bellies full of popcorn and cookies, afraid to turn out the lights because of a spooky session with the Ouija Board and “light as a feather, stiff as a board?” Guess that answers that question.) But I guess in a way, we sometimes do. We’ve rented a house together with friends. We just all have our own beds and bedrooms (bonus if we get our own family bathroom!), we replace popcorn and cookies with wine and whiskey, and we play board games or charades instead of Ouija and ghost stories. Extra bonus if there’s a hot tub!

In a couple of weeks, we’re actually spending a few days with friends on the coast in their company’s beach house. We trade off cooking and cleaning responsibilities, while spending the days on the beach or hiking, or just lounging in the house. In the evenings after the kids go to bed, you’ll often find the adults staying up late, enjoying adult beverages and card games. (Other times the adults conk out early with the kids.) It’s a family slumber party!