Party, party, party
It's June, and party season has begun, except this summer, our little one is walking so I guess I didn't quite know what to expect.
I was looking foward to this particular party as the food is always good, the company is intellectual and funny, and the alcohol is a plenty.
When we first got there, Meg was calm, checking out her new surroundings and eating some grapes. This quickly changed as she got a taste of what I like to call "baby crack" a.k.a Cheetos. Trying to keep her off the cheetos, I offered chips instead. This was a purely selfish move as I considered my white shirt and light acqua skirt and quickly thought I could live with greese stains better than orange stains.
This worked-- for the short term.
Cut to an hour later. Her "older" cousins arrived and now the running aroung begins. My sister in law let her go upstairs and she got a taste of a zillion toys followed by Mommy freedom and all hell was breaking loose. I was desparately trying to locate tylenol and beer, and was not successful in either.
After coaxing her downstairs with the promise of cookies, someone told me the beer cooler was out back. So I took her outside with me to find it. She ran up ahead and managed to jump into a huge puddle making her legs all black with dirt and leaves. From there, she took off like a maniac towards the swing set, which I was promptly told by her to "sit" and swing her. I sat on the wet swing and did as told for a good fifteen minutes before it started to downpour out of nowhere.
We ran inside and I realized that I hadn't located that phantom beer cooler yet.... I did however locate a brother in law whom I recruited to get me a beer while I sat in the kitchen with my crazed child on my lap reaching for the cheetos with her huge hands not taking no for an answer. (It's amazing what moms will let their kids do, just so they don't scream and cause a scene.)
Alas, the beer arrives but after a sip, Meg -- in her cheetos frezy-- manages to knock it over. Adults run to clean up the spill and it is at this time I wonder as you may have"where is this baby's father?" After I apoligize and thank the crowd, I drop her off with the nearest family member and proceed to look for him with a vengence.
After I find and sail into him, he comes into the house, takes Meg into another room and I go on a hunt for more alcohol. I give up the beer cooler (too far) and instead find an open bottle of wine. I drink it down like I am doing shots. No one seems to notice. Unwillingly, I look down at my outfit which is covered in whatever she got on the bottom of her shoes and legs.
It is at this point I realize, parties are not what they used to be, and while I had a good fifteen minutes before the pair of them came a lookin for "mamma" I ran off to have some intelligent and funny adult conversation so I could fulfill my goals.
I was looking foward to this particular party as the food is always good, the company is intellectual and funny, and the alcohol is a plenty.
When we first got there, Meg was calm, checking out her new surroundings and eating some grapes. This quickly changed as she got a taste of what I like to call "baby crack" a.k.a Cheetos. Trying to keep her off the cheetos, I offered chips instead. This was a purely selfish move as I considered my white shirt and light acqua skirt and quickly thought I could live with greese stains better than orange stains.
This worked-- for the short term.
Cut to an hour later. Her "older" cousins arrived and now the running aroung begins. My sister in law let her go upstairs and she got a taste of a zillion toys followed by Mommy freedom and all hell was breaking loose. I was desparately trying to locate tylenol and beer, and was not successful in either.
After coaxing her downstairs with the promise of cookies, someone told me the beer cooler was out back. So I took her outside with me to find it. She ran up ahead and managed to jump into a huge puddle making her legs all black with dirt and leaves. From there, she took off like a maniac towards the swing set, which I was promptly told by her to "sit" and swing her. I sat on the wet swing and did as told for a good fifteen minutes before it started to downpour out of nowhere.
We ran inside and I realized that I hadn't located that phantom beer cooler yet.... I did however locate a brother in law whom I recruited to get me a beer while I sat in the kitchen with my crazed child on my lap reaching for the cheetos with her huge hands not taking no for an answer. (It's amazing what moms will let their kids do, just so they don't scream and cause a scene.)
Alas, the beer arrives but after a sip, Meg -- in her cheetos frezy-- manages to knock it over. Adults run to clean up the spill and it is at this time I wonder as you may have"where is this baby's father?" After I apoligize and thank the crowd, I drop her off with the nearest family member and proceed to look for him with a vengence.
After I find and sail into him, he comes into the house, takes Meg into another room and I go on a hunt for more alcohol. I give up the beer cooler (too far) and instead find an open bottle of wine. I drink it down like I am doing shots. No one seems to notice. Unwillingly, I look down at my outfit which is covered in whatever she got on the bottom of her shoes and legs.
It is at this point I realize, parties are not what they used to be, and while I had a good fifteen minutes before the pair of them came a lookin for "mamma" I ran off to have some intelligent and funny adult conversation so I could fulfill my goals.
posted by Jennifer at 9:17 PM
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