Family Fun Nite

How to rock Family Fun Nite (and yes, I spell checked):

a) Lose the tween. Ellie was gone like a shot within minutes of entering the school yard. She joined up with her peeps, it looked like there was some tag happening, I may have seen some boys in the mix, I was too far away to see clearly, but hair may have been tossed, too hard to tell if it was tossed with intent, but wah, my baby is not a baby anymore. Ellie and her core homies roamed the field between the bounce house and the deflated shark slide (anything more sad than a flat inflatable with a busted zipper and hundreds of slide happy elementary kids?) like exquisitely beautiful and wholly unself-conscious 10 year old royals, my heart was set to burst and I didn't even get one photo.


b) Power up. Hit the snow cone and cotton candy lines first, before the crowds gather, and load up on empty calories, you're going to need everyone of those thermal units in just a mere 55 minutes. Oh good hell, I stood in line for the bounce house for 55 long, long, soul searingly long minutes. I tried to talk to the mom in line behind me, but all she wanted to talk about was how great I am for "what I did." Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm a plucky gal intent on saving every homeless waif in the world, I'm so good-hearted, I'm a saint, yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh good hell, how many different ways can I say, "Oh no, I'm the lucky one," before some people will take the hint and let me own my decision to become a parent for the self-same reasons THEY became a parent: because I wanted to be a parent and love my children. Sheesh, some people. But, on the bright side, as I died on the vine, keeping Nora and Mimi from bickering while they hung on my arms and stepped on my feet while simultaneously tamping down my urge to slap the other mom and tell her to dry up, I did hear some interesting talk. It may all be my imagination, but if the word on the street is credible, it looks like I'm a shoo-in for Middle Aged Mother of the Year award and my heroic achievement in the bounce house line just might have put me over the top. If the rumors are true and I'm called to claim the title, I'll wear the crown proudly.


c) Bounce. Bounce big baby, yeah, bounce like tomorrow may never come. Bounce like you'll never bounce again (and you won't bounce again tonight, for damn sure, because crown or no crown, this middle-aged mom is NOT standing in that soul-shredding line in this life time, or until next year, which ever comes first). That's it work it, work it, sell it, sell it, show me some life, give it to the camera, that's it, that's it. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.











d) Power down. Hit the snack line one more time before you call it a night, you earned it, you deserve it. Take that party on home, it's time to roll up the sidewalks.