I am sitting here with my eyes half closed. I feel like I've been in a street fight for the last few hours. My head is throbbing, my back is killing me, my throat is hoarse, and I feel pretty woozy.
Why? Because I foolishly believed it made more sense to have a preteen boy party at home rather than go out to the local roller rink.
After picking 1,000,000,000,000 kernels of popcorn out of the berber carpet, peeling a half-sucked Jolly Rancher (dh thought hard candy would be a good idea) off of a sofa, administering ice to the eye of one young partygoer and a wet rag to the bloody lip of another, I can tell you, if you find yourself in such a situation, GO TO THE DAMN ROLLER RINK. It is worth whatever fee they charge. Go, and don't look back.
Don't get me wrong - the kids had a memorable, red-letter kind of evening. Even those who required first aid. In ones and twos they are cute enough, a little rambunctious maybe, but manageable. I just don't have anything like the kind of energy it takes to prepare for, live through, and deal with the aftermath of, the effects of 8 of them in my home at one time. I don't know what we were thinking. *Sigh* But ds hath proclaimed it "the best day of my life" so there is our reward :) He's going to have to live on that for a while though. A LONG while. Mommy and Daddy need some sleep.
Nothing to report on the knitting front. Can you blame me? I spent the week grading papers, writing quizzes, and tying yarn to balloons for "Stomp n Pop." Next up: son number two's Harry Potter extravaganza. Give me strength!!
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