I was so itching for a grown up night out. All my best girlfriends (I have a total of four) are either pregnant or decided to be old farts. I had tentative plans with my two best guys, but one cancelled because he had “stomach issues” and the other was dizzy every time he got up, plus I think he is afraid to go out just him and I because his wife would be pissed. I am not one to cause marital distress so I understood. I asked my husband if he would call his sister and ask her to watch the kids so he and I could go out. She is busy holding a grudge because he made her crazy ass look even crazier and in an attempt to prove how completely sane she is, she is not answering the phone or returning his calls.
We could have a date night at home, we have done it before and it has been just as nice. The kids are all asleep already but so is Mr. Universe. Out like a light laying on my sofa like a hairless silverback with sleep apnea. And they say romance is dead. Not in this house I tell ya.
So what is a girl to do? Do I have to be an adult now since my husband is geriatric and my two best guys went from being daring biker dudes to asthmatic, rheumatoid arthritis having, one more concussion away from dementia patients? If I gotta hear about one more ache or pain I am confiscating their Harleys and giving them hovarounds.
I am so pissed at those two really. The girls, I understand. They get married (three of them are newlyweds) and they truly believe they have to crawl up their husband’s ass in order for their marriage to survive. But the two bastards promised me we would never get old. We would always make time for our asinine conversations about nothing important over quesadillas and booze. Not that I want Paul shitting himself while I eat my quesadilla nor do I want Sal to faint and crack his head on a bar stool and end up with that one last concussion. I just needed to go out and have the dust blown off me. I needed to be my old self for one evening.
I wouldn’t want anyone to take this the wrong way or misunderstand what I am trying to say here. I love being a mom and I am truly blessed to have my three children. There was a time when I considered myself lucky to have just one. I don’t make a single decision without considering what the effects of that choice will be on my family. However, I don’t think that when you become a mom, you have to stop being everything else that you are. Unless you are a crackhead, then you should cut that shit out.
I think I am a better mom because I set some time aside to do things that don’t necessarily have anything to do with being a parent. Sure I don’t have as much time as I used to for those outside interest, but that is ok. It is all about having a chance to blow off some steam. We all get overwhelmed sometimes. I don’t believe in bottling that stuff up. I think that holding stuff in is what causes cancer, I swear.
So this morning, by ten am, the boys had made an indoor wrestling rink and were using my dining room chairs as diving platforms. They were jumping off chairs and beating the hell out of each other and their baby sister got right in the mix. I told them I was at my wit’s end and I couldn’t take it anymore. That is when Liam said,
“Well just wait until you go to get your lip waxed today. Then things are gonna get CRAAAAAAZZZZAAAAY!”
O.K. that was funny. The day was crazy. There was a lot of fighting and a lot of crying and mommy was needing a drink and some adult interaction by 12. As overwhelmed as I was, I wasn’t prepared for how disappointed I would be when I couldn’t find anyone to go be an adult with. It really bummed me out. I felt lonely and I felt old. I needed to get a grip.
So I sent Geno and the two boy wonders outside to the park, spent a lovely afternoon with my little ladybug, we went food shopping just her and I and had a great time. Just to add insult to injury, naturally they were out of all three of my favorite Ben and Jerry’s, so now, not only will I not be drinking and dancing and having a blast, I also won’t be having a pity party with my ice cream. The urgency for self medicating with good booze and bad gossip has passed. The thought of having a romantic evening with my hunk o ‘ burnin love has passed as well, due to the sight of him drooling on my sofa. I feel quiet and relaxed. I am going to eat some sea salt and cracked pepper potato chips and watch something really classless on tv like the real housewives of some shit or other. Which, by the way, is the furthest thing from reality I have ever seen. You want to see reality, send a film crew over here while I am trying to make dinner as Liam is doing homework and Gene is looking for his hard hat, socks, lunch box, balls or whatever is missing at this point while Quinn smears poop all over the toilet seat and Ava tries to eat it. That’s reality.
Anyway, another Saturday night for the history books has passed. Tomorrow is my lazy Sunday, where I will not abide by any type of schedule. I will start my Sunday gravy in the am and spend the rest of the day converting oxygen to carbon dioxide and all will be right with the world.
Until the next time I have a nervous breakdown about the fact that I will be forty in a few short years and my friends are buzzkilling, disabled Momos.