One Toddler and 101 Octogenarians
I had one of those weekends which was supposed to be a lot more fun that it actually ended up being.
Friday night I attended an end-of-year house party with my school mates. We had money left from our colloquium budget, and since our Treasurer is also on our social committee, it was easy to convince her to spend our surplus on liquor. It was supposed to be a backyard BBQ, but the rain threw a bit of a wrench into things. Still, we had a really good time--except I appalled my colleagues with my taste in music. It was about 2:00 in the morning, and we were all getting tired, and decided we needed some good dance music to liven thing up. Finding Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” on someone’s iPod, I immediately cranked it, and got out my air guitar, only to be met with…laughter (and maybe a little bit of horror too).
I arrived home from the party at 3 am only to find I had forgotten my keys, forcing me to ring the bell and wake up poor McHotty who had to be up three hours later to work a 24-hour shift. I am lucky my husband is such a nice man.
Cake, as usual decides to get up at 6 AM Saturday morning. (Why does this always happen! This morning, having gone to bed a 9 PM last night, I was up bright and early, and actually banging around to try to wake her to say goodbye before I left for work. She was still snoozing soundly when I left at 7:30). Saturday morning, I brought her into bed with me and put Dora on my laptop. I would just doze off when I’d be abruptly awoken with Cakes two inches from my face, wearing a devilish grin.
“Wakey-wakey!”
I was in hell, I tell you, hell.
Sunday we took Cakes to Hicksville for my great-grandmother’s boyfriend’s 85th birthday party. I thought it would be a family affair, and Cakes would have a blast playing with her cousin. We arrive at Grandma’s condo, and enter the party room, to find it filled with the entire residency of the building, nay the whole fucking village of Hicksville. I made Cakes a plate of white bread sandwiches, scarfed down a piece of cake, kissed the birthday boy, and we were on our way back to the city in under an hour. Oy!
Needless to say, next weekend can only be better. Right?
Labels: moi
posted by metro mama @ 10:11 AM
8 Comments:
Ouch. These days, my lack of sleep is due to nose-blowing and baby dancing, so the thought of throwing in hangovers is just painful.
The fact that your great-grandmother has an 85 year-old boyfriend cracks me up even more than the air-guitar/whitesnack visual.
The title of this cracked me right up. Of course, my kids fully expect everyone to be old, thanks to my highly aged buddies and all.
3am??? I can't stay up that late even when I'm not drinking! Even if my daughter slept through until 8am, I'd still be screwed.
I have that song on my iPod too. :)
Laughed at the 85th birthday comment about white bread and being in and out in under an hour. Good for you.
6am wake-up calls are just no fun for anyone. NO FUN.
Who are these people that do not appreciate your air guitar?
Your grandma could give my sex life a run for its mommy.
Like a fine wine I tell ya....
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