About last night...

Sadly, no hookers were killed in the events that transpired. Nothing quite that noteworthy, but it should be said that there was drinking, debauchery, and oh... the dancing!

I begin with this simple statement: My car is still in the Village. Now that you are familiar with the ending, let's replay the events of momma's night out!

It would make sense to begin at 7:30, when I am set to meet up with my other partners in crime, but as a mother... the evening ALWAYS begins before that. I'm no dummy. I begin to prep at 4:30 as I know how long this process can take. Wash hair, play co-pilot with toddler. Don't worry, no chance of getting lost as we can simply follow the droplets streaming from the damp mass on my head. 5:30: Dinner. I don't get to eat. Obviously. 6:00: Remember that too tight going out clothes are still in the washer... switch loads and begin massive renovation project on my face. 6:30: Too tight clothes are still damp and getting progressively tighter in the dryer. Have a discussion with previously mentioned toddler as to why mommy HAS to get out tonight and why he was not invited. 6:45: Arrange damp, and now frizzy, mass into a cozy nest... pray it comes off as "avant garde". 7:00: DING! Dryer's done! SQUEEZE into my skinny jeans (which, thank you modeling industry where a 6 is plus sized, are beyond a 6...way beyond.) and dress! Top off with some tasteful skanky earrings, et voila! 7:15: Figure out a way to nurse shrieking baby in an outfit not meant for children.

I arrive at 7:33. Early in my adjusted mommy time! We congregate, and begin our adventure. As the night progresses, I realize I have the perfect science fair project for my sons some day. Mass and Volume: when one mommy is drinking tiny glasses of hard liquor and other mommy's are drinking tall pilsner glasses of beer... who will get drunk faster? Answer: Your mother. Drunk beyond normal speaking volume, drunk beyond appropriate conversation topics, drunk enough to dance to Miley Syrus. Dur..runk. Secrets were shared, private topics were "un-privated", drunk texts were sent, and bar televisions had their channels stealthily switched to Sprout and their remotes promptly hidden.

It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of an "older" woman shaking her groove thang that my mellow was harshed. Did I look like that? Obviously I wasn't the only one concerned as another friend asked me the same thing. Suddenly, like an outbreak of hysteria, the entire table of possible retirees began to boogie. Lord, help me if I look like that, please say all of the "children" in the bar accept me as one of them. Let me be the Jane Goodall to their gorilla's in the mist. I'll accept I'm a bit older than them, but just say that I'm like the cool older sister, not the frazzled old catlady up the street whose doorbell, whence being rung, is an immediate badge of courage to fellow elementary schoolers. DO I LOOK LIKE THAT LADY??? End dancing. Swallow last bit of courage juice. Resign to behave like an adult-ish person the rest of the evening.

I head, reluctantly, to the car... or, my husband's car, as it is decidedly less "motherly". FROST is coating every glassine surface. FROST! It is the first week of October! I try mightily to eradicate said frost and it just isn't happening, and to top it off... the friendly village officer keeps circling the block. I can't take the pressure. A rebel I am not. I hop in the car with a dear friend and am chauffeured the 8 blocks home. Thus.... my car is in the Village.

Wrap your head around explaining to your 2 1/2 year old why we have no vehicle today. We are trapped at home, on a Saturday. This never happens. Saturdays are away days. Out and about days. Be obnoxious elsewhere days. He begins to catch on to the no car thing:

Monster Toddler (MT): "Mommy, where's your car?"

HM(Horrible Mother): "It isn't here."

MT: "Where can it be? Can't find it anywhere!"

HM: "It's in the Village."

MT: "We get Daddy's race car (Honda Civic... don't ask)"

HM: "THAT is the car in the Village. Mommy's car is at Daddy's work."

MT: "Ok Mommy! We go get your car."

HM: "We CAN'T, we have no car!"

This continues in rounds for minutes. He suggests walking, too far. Running, that's just faster, meaner walking. I'm waiting for him to suggest horse and carriage. Face it kid. We are stuck here, whether any of us likes it or not, until Daddy comes home. All because mommy needed a drink. So I'm up. I have kids and, like it or not, I'm up. Glad to see the construction workers in my head decided to work weekends! I have no voice for yelling, as I used it all up screaming about how I loved EVERY song the DJ spun. I'm paying my dues for my night of frivolity and fun... and I'm counting down the days to my next escapade.