The not-uptight parenting award of the year goes to…

…Randy and Theresa Mariner of Dover, Delaware, who had ten preteen boys (including mine) at their house for a sleepover last night, even though they are moving to Virginia TODAY!!!

I know it’s early in the year to award this annual prize, but when it comes to being calm under pressure, gluttons for punishment Randy and Theresa have this competition sewn up. Call them crazy, but they figured that the last minute farewell party would give their two boys a last hurrah with their friends, with the added benefit of providing lots of mouths to eat up all the remaining tater tots, chicken nuggets, and soda in the house. Who better to eat the whole thing than two basketball teams worth of Wii playing pre-adolescents? Yup, while Randy and Theresa dismantled furniture and packed up all their worldly goods, the boys hung out, ate up, played on, and said goodbye in the way that only boys can.

In a million years I never would have predicted that this going away party would be a sleepover—when Theresa said I should pick Jake up at noon I nearly dropped the phone. She and her husband must be two cool, yet authoritative, customers.

With Randy and Theresa’s example, though, Craig and I are wondering whether we have the worldwide high score on the uptight-o-meter. Ten boys would be a major stretch for us under normal circumstances, let alone in a packing and moving environment. Sometimes one boy is too much for us. Sometimes getting up in the morning is too much for us.

We are such weaklings.

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2 Comments

  1. Monica said,

    February 27, 2010 at 9:49 pm

    Are they aliens? 🙂 For most people, moving is one of those things high on the most stressful life events, right? Adding 10 boys for a sleepover would definetly make me crack. It is great that they can do it and a nice memory for the boys.

    • Cheryl said,

      February 28, 2010 at 2:04 pm

      I’m so glad you said all that. It is a rather other-worldly phenomenon. Come to think of it, the dad was wearing a baseball cap the whole time–a hidden third eye, perhaps?


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