I'm tired. Too tired to go out partying on Fridays and eating breakfast before going to bed on Saturday. I'm so over hungover Sundays. That's not me anymore. I'm a granny. I start dozing on the couch at 8:00 pm. watching CSI (my generation's version of "Murder She Wrote") covered in blankets with only a solitary lamp lighting the room. Everything's different though, when the grandchildren come to stay. Why do grandchildren not have bedtimes? Last night we stayed up and stayed up, and stayed up some more. They watched movies and ate and popcorn and snuggled with 12 year old Uncle Charlie. Then Uncle Charlie disappeared to his room and we watched more movies. We ate sweets and drank chocolate milk and took countless bathroom breaks. I'm telling you, it was almost as crazy as a night on the town. You know those nights when you end up at a friend's house, everyone asleep on the couches and chairs, people snoring on the floor? That was my night. One fell asleep lying spread eagle on her back, smack on top of me on the love-seat. I found Charlie rolled up like a burrito in a blanket on his bed, the XBox controller still gripped in his right hand. Yet another lay drooling half-on, half-off the sofa. I put one of the party animals in bed with me and finally crawled under the covers to sleep. She immediately turned herself sideways in the bed and put her feet in my stomach. This was the sleep-dance we did all night. Feet in my stomach, feet in my face, elbow to my nose. She snored like a passed out 22 year old who stayed out too late with the wrong crowd. At 6:30 this morning when I felt her sitting up in bed beside me, I became aware of the throbbing in my head. I looked up at her. She was smiling down at me, her hair all askance. "Hi Momo!" She said. "Hi Athena." I said back, in my brightest granny voice. "Let's go get waffles." We all hit up the Waffle House dressed like we pulled clothes out of the hamper without the lights on. The food was good, the kids were fun, but I couldn't wait to get back home and take a nap. Life doesn't give you a break once you're a granny. Don't be fooled. You're still going to be up all night on Saturdays, eating breakfast too early on Sundays and walking around like a zombie on Mondays. The party never ends, it just changes into something different. Instead of tequila shots, you'll be slamming chocolate milk until 3:00 a.m. and let me tell you, there is such a thing as a chocolate milk hangover. It's only cured by a super sweet breakfast and lots of water and that's only if you're NOT lactose intolerant. The best part though? You get to take those sugar-rushed maniacs back to their parents once the sleep-over is done! And let me tell you, you've never had a nap as sweet as the one you get after a night of the granny life.