In direct contrast to yesterday's events, one amazingly good thing has come out of my rantings about WoW. (Damn it. And I swore I wouldn't mention it again! Dollar for the "Don't Say It" jar.)
One of my self-described lurkers came out of hiding last year and became a regular commenter. Soon after, she started her own blog and I started stalking her.
Have I ever told you how awesome Rachel is? She is awesome. Have I ever told you how much Sprite adores her two daughters Lilli and "Lissie-beth" (Elizabeth)? She does.
We've met for a number of play dates, usually at the playground nearby, where our children could run free (yet contained, always a bonus) and we could start (and pause) an unlimited number of stories while running to the aid of three girls whose imaginations could kill them. (and us if they tried..)
Taking the plunge, I invited Rachel, Elizabeth, and Lilli over to our house for a playdate. We set the time for last Friday evening, a pizza dinner, some cookies, a movie, and of course, lots of play time. I had a week to get the house ready and thought I would attack things bit by bit so it would all be done by Date-Day.
Oh, life. Why must you mock me? (And the crank calls are just bad form. Really.)
Due to the art project I will subject you to tomorrow, I was caught up and tied down and constantly playing defense to a toddler who was hell-bent on 1. joining my art project 2. taking my art project and 3. making improvements to my art project. ("No, Sprite. Macaroni and cheese should NOT go in the paint." "No, Sprite. The paint is NOT ketchup. And since when have you ever seen pink ketchup?")
Friday morning, I looked around at the debris from the past week, the dust bunnies which had banded together with the dog hair and was currently waging war on EVERYTHING, and the toys which had become more of a sidestepper than a picker-upper in our daily obstacle course. And Sprite's room? Ha! I had resigned myself by Tuesday to just clearing a path to her bed, the shoved toys now creating a rocky knoll of tossed aside treasures.
There was no way my house was date ready.
I couldn't cancel. No! This date was as much for me as it was for the kid who I'd been psyching up all week and had glowed when I woke her up and confirmed that, indeed, Elizabeth and Lilli would be coming over this evening.
I snuck out of the office at lunchtime to clean. That's right, I cheated! I hurried home, got out the Dyson, (yes, we've had it for almost 6 years and I still refuse to refer to it as a vacuum. Now hush. You'll hurt its feelings.) made Sprite's bed while shoving nice looking toys into appropriate places to encourage playing, and the rest under the bed, (the bed may have raised a few inches, but it was sturdy enough. I checked.) and tackled the dust before it could tackle me.
All doors to destinations too messy to travel into were closed and the couches were covered for possible food related injuries.
Finally pausing to take a drink, (and, you know, breathe) I looked around, satisfied at the result. My house may not be ready for its close up (ever), but the Hazmat suits wouldn't be needed. And our guests would never know that I had spent the better part of my day making it look like it was all so effortless.
Rachel and her girls arrived to a somewhat neat home at 6:30. Sprite's somewhat neat room was completely trashed by 6:31. I admitted my clandestine cleaning to Rachel by 6:32.
We had a great time. We ate, decorated cookies, saw three Cinderella's vye for "Who Wore it Best?", and even took in a movie.
Rachel and I made promises for a Mommy's Night Out so we could finish those started stories without the girls needing help with a Princess or a Pony.
And no one mentioned the few stray bunnies that were forming an alliance in the corner.
The perfect ending? Sprite was asleep within minutes of Rachel's car pulling out of the driveway. (Rachel, your plan for a pj theme worked out so much better than you can imagine.)
So that WoW post did more than I thought it would. I may have gotten a troll, but I also got a friendship I treasure. (And ANOTHER dollar for the "Don't Say It" jar..)





