Spend the night, spend an hour...

I wish I could go back--even if just for a moment--and remember what it was like to be this excited about anything, much less having a friend coming over for a spend-the-night at my house.  They danced, they giggled, they ran in a circle for 30 minutes straight; yet the only confrontation they ever had was who got which side of the bed.  Needless to say, the sleepover ended around 9:30 pm when Sam deeply missed her family, but the only tears that were shed that night were from my daughter... "Why are YOU crying, sweetie?" I asked, "Because I will miss YOU when I go to Sam's!"  Well... it's been well over two weeks and that still hasn't happened.

As I got Sam ready for the journey back home, I was reminded of a girls night at my friend Sabrina Semich's house back in my single-digit years.  I remember sitting in her kitchen listening to all the girls laughing and all I could think was how much I missed my mom.  I can't remember if I cried or not, but I do remember the yellow phone that hung neatly on the wall against their 1970's wallpaper; cord dangling and taunting every inch of my heartbroken mind.  It must have been around 7:00 or so when Mrs. Semich made the call, "Hi... it's me... she's ready to come home.  <laughs>  Okay, I'll let her know.  You're mommy will be here soon, sweetheart."

To be honest, I can't recall ever having another spend-the-night (or attempting to) again until I was in high school.  My senior year, I actually lived with my best friend, Jenefer and her family, because my mom bought a condo outside of my school district and I wanted to graduate with my class.  After that, spend-the-nights were mandatory due to poor math with the bartender at Northberg Tavern on $3 pitcher night.  It wouldn't be uncommon to wake up on the floor of my friends apartment, only to find the entire left hand side of my body covered in a pink hue from the bleeding red (wet) carpet in the bathroom.  Ahhhh... good times!

I'm hopeful that my lovely little seed won't ever wake up to the crinkle of cheap carpet on her face, but if she's anything like her mother (was) or father (was) back in the day... there's a fairly good chance she will experience one or two rough nights in her later years--and I'm guessing that I'll be the LAST person she'll want to call (but I'd give my left leg if she did).