I have been to my fair share of slumber parties.
As a tween, I remember what seemed to be the running tradition of ostracizing one girl for the entire evening so that everyone else could bond over the hatred. I watched it play out over and over and I went to every slumber party with a pit in my stomach. Afraid of both being the girl that would be left out for the evening and being the girl that let it happen, silently thankful that I had been spared.
Slumber parties as a teenager were definitely more interesting. It was often the result of starting a movie too late and convincing our parents’ that we were making the safe decision to stay over at so-and-so’s house for the night. These slumber parties were more about getting used to the feeling of being an adult.
And adult slumber parties…
Wait. No one has adult slumber parties. Ok, maybe there are adult slumber parties, but not any Mark and I are showing up to any time soon!
I do not want to see the searches that are going to get sent my way for that last paragraph…
I hadn’t been to a sleepover in what felt like forever. And I needed a slumber party fix. So I told my best friend Shelly that she would be hosting a Twilight slumber party. We were going to party 12 year old style with the help of Robert Pattinson’s vampirey hotness.
So I invited all of my middle Tennessean female Facebook friends to join us for slumber party goodness. And most of you rejected me.
But 5 of you said yes. And showed up. And reminded me how abundantly blessed I am in the friend department. For serious.
Shelly, my best friend for all of high school and college roomie and future travel buddy. She didn’t have a choice because I forced her to let us use her house. Sarah, my friend from high school and college who had us in stitches with her inability to filter anything that comes out of her mouth. Jessica, my “church” friend that most closely shares my understanding of spirituality, which makes her ultra special in my book. Christina, my friend from grad school who best understands how freaking impossible it is to do anything with a counseling degree. And Liz, a friend I met through Mark, who I absolutely adore.
In case you can’t tell, about the only thing most of us seemed to have in common was being my friend on Facebook. For me, this was like a sociological experiment. My own personal weekend long season of The Real World, “What happens when you put 5 strangers in the same house to watch a poorly made teen/chick flick…”
I was ready for it to be a disaster. Because anything this poorly thought out deserves to be a disaster.
But it wasn’t. It was actually tons of fun. Slumber parties, People, only get better as we age. Seriously. Because now we’re not jockeying for position as a Queen Bee. We aren’t worried about how fat our legs look when it’s time to change into our boxer short pajamas. All that teen angst is gone and we find out that it’s been replaced with Grown Up Joy.
That’s right. It’s FUN to be a grown up. Especially when there are slumber parties to attend!