Moms stuff a fantastical number of accomplishments into each and every day. They work and parent and schedule and play cab driver and love and clean and nurse. And they worry. Oh how do they worry. (I honestly didn’t think of myself as the worrying type until I saw a book called Women Who Worry and it started me worrying that I don’t worry enough.)
It’s tough to find a free moment, let alone a free weekend – that’s why I salute the moms who made it to Vegas with me around this time last year for various birthdays of a non-specific nature. It went a little something like this:
“Guys, there’s no alcohol in these drinks. I don’t feel anything at all. Hey look, there’s a gondola!! Let’s go ask him if we can stand in it.”
“How do you think she takes a step without falling on her face with those heels and those…other things?”
“I’m trying to take a picture of you guys. Could you please stop being so blurry?”
“Seriously, there was no alcohol in those drinks. Let’s go try on slutty dresses.”
“How do these people stay up so late?? Oh, it’s only 7:45? Is that with the time change? Oh, there’s no time change between Vegas and Seattle?”
“No, it’s totally her birthday, she should get free spa services! Um, I’m not sure why her driver’s license says she was born in August. Hey, the Harley Davidson Cafe didn’t ask us for ID!”
“I think Elvis just felt me up./Really? You should give him a bigger tip.”
“I think you were supposed to take the lemon, not eat it out of the bartender’s hand.”
“Well, excuse me, I’ve never had a chocolate cake shot with my scrambled eggs before.”
“There is no alcohol in these drinks, I swear. I’m totally sober. I think I’ll just take a little nap here on the floor.”
No one gambled a cent. Cheers to the women who wore tastefully slutty eye make-up, fought to stay up until midnight, up, and paid 17 dollars for a sweet factory chocolate bar in the Bellagio.
Same time this year?