About Rebecca Eckler
Since becoming pregnant with her daughter Rowan, Canadian journalist and author Rebecca Eckler has penned three hilarious books, including the best-selling Knocked Up. Catch Rebecca’s weekly unique perspective on motherhood and single parenthood.
It was kind of the sleepover from hell. My daughter had her first sleepover at our home. My daughter’s friend is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met. I ordered them pizza, let them watch movies, and stay up until 11pm.
When I finally put them to bed, my daughter’s friend asked me, “Rebecca? What do I do if I need something in the middle of the night?” I’ll admit, I was stumped. My daughter sleeps through the night and never wakes me up. Immediately, I just knew in my gut, that I would be woken up.
I just didn’t expect it to happen three times.
The first time my daughter’s friend walked into my room — scaring the crap out of me (it’s really creepy when someone is standing by your bed, and it’s not your daughter!) — she told me she had a cough. And she did. Sometime between 11pm and 2am my daughter’s friend did get a cough. I told her to go back to bed and try to sleep. Which she did, until she woke me up at 3:30am for the second time. She couldn’t sleep because she was coughing.
Again, I was stumped. Did I call her parents at that ungodly hour? I told her I had Tylenol Cough medicine to which she responded, “What’s Tylenol?” Which, of course, freaked me out because maybe her parents were anti-medicine. But I decided to give it to her anyway, trudging downstairs to my kitchen with her, and giving her the medicine which she complained tasted awful and spit out onto the floor. We finally got some down, and I sent her back to bed.
Then at 5:30 am, she woke me up again. “I can’t sleep,” she told me. By that point, I was so exhausted, that I said, “do you want to watch television until Rowan wakes up?” (My daughter slept through all of this!) And, apparently, her parents don’t let her watch a lot of television, because she was thrilled with this idea. So, again, I trudged downstairs with her (stepping in sticky Tylenol on the kitchen floor) and turned on the television.
Finally, at 9am, my daughter’s friend was still watching television, and my daughter finally woke up (she likes to sleep in). I took them out for breakfast. When we got home, I promptly called her parents and, as gently as I could, said, “well, why don’t you pick her up in, um, like, half an hour?” I was so tired I could barely think.
Now, I don’t think this was the sleepover from hell. She didn’t cry to go home. She didn’t barf. She didn’t break anything. And she’s a sweet kid. But, it’s going to be a while before my daughter has another sleepover, I think.
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