When Booze Is Not Enough

Yes folks, it’s true. There are some pains that alcohol doesn’t take away. Not even my beloved Manhattans. Not even when they’re made with Maker’s AND include a cherry WITH a stem. There are certain hells that cannot be escaped. Teenage girls’ birthday parties fall into this category.

D’s birthday is today and I’m able to feel sentimental about it now, especially after going to her graduation last night. But that’s another story for another time. Probably tonight. Or later today, depending on how unproductive I want to be work-wise.

Anyway, this whole ordeal really started Friday night when I had to bake the cake. After spending three hours shopping for shoes to match her graduation dress, a bathing suit (excuse me, STRING bikini) for the graduation pool party and party food. I was up until 9:30 baking the famous Rainbow Cake, an encore request from last year’s party.

Saturday started with swimming at Juniper. D first begged me to stay at the pool the whole time, then dismissed me once I had paid her admission. “You can go, Mom.” “But don’t you want to know where I’ll be if you need anything?” “You can go NOW, Mom.” I didn’t see her again until she wanted something to eat. I guess her hunger rendered me useful enough to talk to. For half a minute.

Part 1 wasn’t so bad though. It was a gorgeous day and I got to lay out and soak up some rays and some very-much needed vitamin D. It was delicious and I relished every minute of it after winter and all of the rain. It wasn’t, however, enough relaxation to prepare me for Part 2.

The party then moved to the house, where 12, count them – TWELVE, teenage girls were spending the night. I’m pretty sure I only approved eight, but what’s four more? A LOT, it turns out. Twelve estrogen-filled, hormone-induced young people is too much at one time. They were too much for themselves.

They spent the first hour gossiping. I believe that teenage girls have gossiping down to a science. “So-and-so is such a slut.” “He was going out with two girls and liked a third one at the same time.” On and on it went. I learned that my daughter has perverse things said to her. “I asked him what he was doing and he said ‘you’”. (It was at this point that I poured my first drink. It was either that or bite my tongue until it bled.) I also learned that girls like to say no and that they enjoy telling boys “no.” “It’s so easy. They ask you out and you just tell them no. Ha ha ha.” No is my favorite word from teenagers. When it’s not directed at me.

I had about 45 minutes of peace after dinner was devoured (literally), which I named the Eye of the Teenage Storm. J came over, I made my second drink and the girls went to the park. The peace was short-lived.

Ruby Tuesday, my pretty piggy princess puppy, sauntered in with a wrapper hanging from her mouth and an “oh boy, that was delicious” gleam in her eye. I tracked down the source of her new-found happiness and discovered she had eaten half of a giant chocolate bar. My dog basically ate poison. Instant panic. J called her vet friend while I cleaned up the pieces of chocolate that had been licked into the carpet.

In the middle of Dog Drama, the girls arrived home. D was in tears because on the way back to the house, half of the girls had disappeared to go play doorbell ditch and she was convinced that they had all been kidnapped and turned into sex slaves (yes, I have succeeded in instilling this fear into my child). All would-be sex slaves were found and accounted for and given a screaming-tantrum lecture by D. I told her I’d have to deal with the recap of her ordeal another time as I had to first make sure the dog would live. Her reply? “Well then can we have cake now?” Oh yes, of course. I want to get out chocolate cake RIGHT NOW, THIS INSTANT AFTER MY DOG JUST POISONED HERSELF WITH CHOCOLATE!!! In one of my finer moments of motherhood, I let fly the F word. In front of 11 kids that aren’t mine.

In the end the cake was served, complete with candles and a song, I tricked Ruby into drinking hydrogen peroxide, which induced a ginormous amount of vomiting and retired to my room with my laptop and another Manhattan. All was good. Or at least nobody died. Or called the police on me. Or I didn’t run out of alcohol and call the police on myself if only to spend a quiet night in jail.

Needless to say, nobody got much sleep.

If some of you can benefit from this wonderful, never-to-be-repeated experience, here’s my advice.

1. Have either a slumber party or a pool party, but not both. Bringing 12 sunburned, hungry teenagers to your house is just asking for trouble.

2. 12 teenage girls is too many. About 7 too many. They can’t control their own hormones, let alone everyone else’s. The drama just multiplies exponentially. Also – girls can be mean and will form groups against each other. Even when they’re friends.

3. Keep chocolate away from dogs. At all times. Always. If you’re not smart enough to follow this simple rule, at least be smart enough to keep some hydrogen peroxide on hand.

4. Teenage girls eat a lot. A LOT. I suppose I should be happy that none of them have unhealthy body issues but I kinda wish they did. They were asking for seconds before they even started on their first plate. They called thirds on cinnamon rolls before they took the first bite of the first one. They’re like locusts, swooping in and leaving nothing in their wake. They will literally fight each other for a piece of bread. Be prepared to feed an army. It’s not cheap.

5. Trick a friend who doesn't have kids into coming over to keep you company. Your friends with kids will know better.

6. Finally and most importantly – make sure you have alcohol on hand and plenty of it. I cannot stress this enough. If you don’t heed this advice, all I can say is you’re digging your own grave and it’s been nice knowing you. Teenage girls are vicious and will eat you alive if you are not sufficiently numbed to their evil influences.