We have an indoor pool here on the island called the Aquatic Center. It’s super cool with a big pool, lazy river, rope swings, slides and a jacuzzi.  My Zeta’s favorite thing to do in the entire world is swim. So you can imagine her delight at the proximately of such a fun place to swim. She begs me or her father to take her there about every other day. (Of course we’ve only taken her once because that’s the kind of parents we are. Getting in the pool with 100 kids and their parents doesn’t really appeal to us).

For about 3 months now Zeta has been talking about what she would like to do for her birthday. Her birthday is next month. Any time she brings up her party she asks to have it at the aquatic center. I ignored her until last week because her birthday was just too far away to think about and I had about a million on other more pressing things on my mind.  While we were in San Diego I was trying to chat up the idea of a party at home. I told her we could go with a mermaid theme and have a slip n slide and all sorts of fun things.  She would pretend to consider it and then say she really, really, really wanted her party at the aquatic center.

So we get home and I get on the computer to see just how much a party at the pool will set me back and exactly what kind of a pain in my ass this is going to be. I was pleasantly surprised to see it wasn’t pricey at all, in fact it’s about $100 less than the parties I paid for her and her sister at My Gym in San Diego.  She’ll get a cabana for an hour and two hours of swimming with a special game for her guests. Also? They provide the cake, ice cream, plates, etc, etc!! Wow. So I booked that baby immediately.

As you can imagine, I was feeling pretty good about myself as a mom. Thinking how thrilled Zeta would be to be getting the party she really wanted. I was giddy imagining how happy she was going to be when I told her. I pictured her throwing her arms around my neck and telling me I’m the best mama in the whole universe! You see where this is going don’t you?

That little ingrate just stood there when I told her. I said, “Zeta, I thought you’d be happy! I thought you’d be excited!” To which she replied quietly, “I am happy.” Upon further questioning (OK, demeaning and berating) she told me, “Well, I don’t know where I want my party but I DON”T want it at the Aquatic Center.” ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I miraculously stayed calm. Probably because I was in complete shock. Seriously.

So I finally get her over that shit and she’s happy if not ecstatic to be having her party at the pool. (It helped telling her there would be paddle boats).  Then it’s on to the next thing. Who will be invited. What goes in the goody bag and does she get to choose who goes in the paddle boats? What a freaking princess.

I have managed to spend most (OK, possibly all) of the last two weeks in some state of inebriation. From nicely buzzed to completely plastered or 3 sheets to the wind as my mother liked to say. Also? most of the past two weeks my kids have been really great! There were hardly any crazy meltdowns, crying fits, knock-down, drag out fights or whining. Except from me, of course. We are on vacation so the rules are pretty slack which makes for happy kids and easy bedtimes. Another thing? The kids were too happy swimming all day and seeing all their old friends to be bratty. Even Jemima was a little trooper and slept well and went with the program.

So of course I decided to push the situation. And on our last night in San Diego I set up a dinner out with 2 other couples, one of whom has two kids of their own. My girls were extremely tired from swimming all day and also a little hopped up from junk food and running around the backyard like crazed maniacs for hours. A sit down dinner really wasn’t the best choice I could have made.

First of all, they didn’t want to get out of the pool, get dressed and leave their buddies so we could get to the restaurant. And frankly, neither did I. You see I had spent several hours in my bathing suit, sipping (read: pounding) white wine and champagne with my wonderful host and a friend. I was quite comfortable on my lounge chair talking about men, sex and dating. I didn’t want to have to get my lazy ass up, dressed and out the door.

You see I was drunk before I even got to the restaurant. But once I arrived I quickly ordered a pomegranate margarita. Just dig this scene: Nita is whining and crying for her blankie (Zeta insists she’ll have it with her at college and I’m inclined to agree); Zeta was complaining about her food choices and being loud; Jemima found the white rocks that were conveniently located behind her and began banging them on the pictures hanging on the wall next to her and hurling them at the table. Me? I was cowering in the corner drinking that margarita as fast as I could.

My friends kept suggesting I drink more, and I kept saying (too loudly, I am sure) that I was drunk when we arrived! It was quite a scene, really. I’m sure people at nearby tables (and my own) were appalled. I was dropping F bombs and other four letter words like a sailor and there were quite a few children around. But our friends? Were great! No one told me to simmer or zip it (except Big Daddy, but that’s his job) and they all said how great our kids are! If you don’t have friends that will lie to you like that, I feel bad for you.  Especially our friends who don’t have children! I mean they aren’t even supposed to slightly get it, but they do! They know that under the whining, rock throwing, climbing under the table and complaining, there are good children. They had a lot of patience for our crazies. Meanwhile there was the sweetest 4 year old boy who I am sure didn’t know what to make of my 3 crazy broads. And he is big brother to the most adorable 2 week old little girl who slept through all of (my and) the kids shenanigans.

It didn’t help that our waiter forgot the kids’ meals. But? Once the macaroni and cheese arrived and the blood sugar levels started to level off, the kids behaved a bit better. Also? We promised them we’d go to the carnival we passed before we went home. So the evening ended with over priced kiddie rides and trying to knock over tin cans with a softball. It was a lot of fun and my kids know now that carney games are a scam.  See? I educate them even when we’re having fun. Such a good mom. Even 3 sheets to the wind.

San Diego Momma’s PrompTuesday is to write about something you miss.

Dear 23 year old Trish,

I just wanted to let you know how much I miss you. I miss everything about you. Your fearlessness and self assurance. The way you don’t worry about things because you just know everything in your life is always going to work out.

I miss your patience and your smooth brow. I have little to no patience, and the place between my eyes has a permanent scowl from looking at my husband and children for several years like they each have five heads.

I miss your ability to drink hard alcohol, dance until 4am and still make it to work by 8am. I can only have 3 glasses of wine and fall asleep around midnight. And when my kids wake me at 7am, I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.

I miss your tits, your stomach and your ass. I was able to make my boobs look pretty close to the way yours do, but it cost me a fortune and I have scars. After having 3 children my stomach will never look like yours. Even if I do lose the 30 pounds of fat circling my waist. Your ass is so perky and smooth. Mine sags and has cellulite.

I miss the way you only have yourself to think of. And the fact that your biggest problem is that crazy roommate of yours.

I know I’ll never see you again, but that’s just the way it is. I should have told you when I had the chance how special you are. I think I’ll always miss you. But I’m pretty happy with my life now

Yours always,
41 year old Trish