Sleepovers Are A Real Gas!

Katie Sullivan turned seven-years-old, and she had the coolest mom on the planet. Her mom let her invite ten of her closest friends to a sleepover birthday party. And I, Lois Lane, was one of them. It was my very first sleepover, and my mom, well, let’s just say she wasn’t nearly as cool as Katie’s mom.

Because there was already a houseful of kids at the Lane Estate, Mom never wanted extra kids visiting, let alone spending the night. I would dream of sleepovers and pizza parties, that would never happen. But it was meant to be, I was in the In Crowd. Just me and the cool kids, chillin’ at a B-day party, all-night-long… just at someone else’s house.

For a week leading up to the event, I thought of all the things we would be doing, talking about, and even made a few games we could play. It was going to be a great time had by all. I was sure of it.

The big day arrived, and let me tell you, I was as excited about Katie’s birthday as she probably was, maybe even more so. I repeatedly reminded my sister Angie that she was not invited, not that she cared, but I sure did. This party meant that I was more popular. I was sure of it.

Somewhere in between gloating and packing, something happened inside of my head. I didn’t have a sleeping bag with a cool cartoon character like Mighty Mouse. I didn’t even have a sleeping bag at all. I didn’t have any cute Strawberry Shortcake pajamas with matching fuzzy slippers either, like everyone else had. And my pillow, which reeked of old drool had one of Grandma’s old lady flowery patterned pillowcases on it. My coolness was slipping and my head was spinning.

“And. Oh. My. God! What happens if I fart in my sleep?!?!?!? Everyone is going to laugh at me, make fun of me, tell everyone at school that Lois Lane is a deflating balloon as soon as the sun goes down.”

I was doomed! I tried to turn the situation around on my mom, but with her lack of cool, she didn’t catch on very quickly.

“Mommy? Are you sure you want me to go away? For. The. Whole. Night!?”

That stupid woman just raised her eyebrow at me like a dog waiting for direction.

“Mom. Mommy? Ma! Hey Mom. Ma?”

She cleared her throat and said, “What?”

“Aren’t you going to miss me? I’ve never been away from home before.”

“Well sure I’ll miss you but you’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“I know, Mom… but I’ll be gone All. Night. Long!”

“Are you afraid you’re going to get homesick, Lolo?”

I didn’t even know what that meant. I put the words together in my head. I realized how not cool my mom was. Homesick is when you are home and get sick. I wasn’t even going to be home. Boy, oh boy, was my mom a dummy!

“No! I’m not sick.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

First I stared at the floor, “Mop N Glow really made floors shiny.” then I looked at my shoes, “Trax blue tennis shoes make toes blue when you get sweaty feet." then I folded my hands, “I really should stop biting my fingernails.” then I started wringing my hands, “Weird how the red parts of my hands turn white when I squeeze.” and then I asked, very seriously, “Mommy, how many pairs of underpants can I wear at one time to make sure no one hears if I fart?”

That evil woman, the non-cool, not even smart woman, laughed at me. I didn’t appreciate her humor.

“Yeah, only ‘cuz, that’s not even a joke. This is serious. If I fart, everyone is going to hear it and then they will make fun of me, and then everyone in the whole entire school is going to find out that I fart.”

“Honey, everyone farts, but no one is going to hear it because they will all be sleeping too.”

Obviously, this woman knew nothing!

“I fart really loud! What if it’s so loud that everyone wakes up?!”

Her laughing turned into a cackle and I knew I would not be getting any words of sympathy or advice from her. Hesitantly, I gathered my things and headed out for the party.

No one besides me seemed to care or notice that I didn’t have a sleeping bag. I brought the biggest fattest comforter so I could wrap my tooshie, in the event it made noise during the night. No one else seemed to care that I didn’t have a matching slipper and PJ set or that my pillow looked like it was stolen from someone’s grandma’s house. But I was sure if I farted, everyone would notice and care.

I vowed to stay awake. All. Night. Long.

That was until I dozed off and one of my own farts woke me. I sat up all quick and nervous like. I was sweating from my heavy-duty blanket. I looked around at all of the other kids. “Thank you God!" They didn’t budge. Everyone was still fast asleep and my butt alarm wasn’t heard by anyone but me… and Katie’s mom? “Oh my God! Why is that lady awake so early? The stupid sun isn’t even up! She is so not the coolest mom ever! I hate her!”

I tried really hard to make fake farting noises with my mouth, and cough so I could cover up the fart factor and she would just think I was just making sounds and not deflating. I thought maybe because everyone was laying so closely together that she wouldn’t know whose butt that sound came from. But I was the only one, sitting straight up, looking gassy and guilty, while hiding in my blanket giving myself a Dutchoven.

“Um… good morning,” I sheepishly said as I poked my head out of my blanket and began to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“Quick Lois, find a grownup word, you can’t tell this lady you are crying because you farted!

“Umm… I’m homesick.”

That lady didn’t laugh at me. That lady was regaining her coolness. That lady called my mom, the not cool lady, and said that I was homesick. That lady fed me doughnuts until my dad came to pick me up at 5 a.m.

My dad wasn’t angry for having to pick me up so early. I hugged him real tight around the neck. Dad knew all about farts. He was a proud card carrying member of the fart club. Hell, he may have been the president or founding member. With Dad, farting was a game, no shame or embarrassment, about bodily functions, ever. Me and Dad would lay around for hours farting and sniffing. Yes, sniffing. No one could match Dad’s fartarificness. Dad was cool.

“Daddy? Thanks for coming to get me… I farted.”

“You did? I didn’t hear a thing, and I don’t smell anything.”

“No, Dad, not now. I farted at the sleepover.”

“So. I bet all the kids farted.”

“No they didn’t, Dad. I tried to stay awake all night and I didn’t hear one toot besides my own.”

“Well Lois, if they don’t fart sometime, eventually they will explode.”

I smiled at that man. He was smart, and cool.

When we got back home, Mom was awake and having coffee. She became sort of like the military that day, don’t ask, don’t tell. I think she knew I wasn’t really homesick, just gassy. And that woman never said a word about farts. She just told me she was so glad I was back home because she missed me. That woman regained her coolness that morning.

By the way, the old fart, Mom, is another year older. You can send her some b-day love in the comments or by emailing her at grannyoakley@hotmail.com.