I'm looking at the pile of laundry begging to be thrown out of the hamper and in some water and soap. Contemplating the growing list of other housework stuff to be urgently taken care of, I realize that I have failed to clean this place. I usually like to put off most hardcore cleaning-related matters till the weekend. When overwhelmed and grossed out I hastily spray, scrub and mop, enforcing law and order in our ever-cluttering Brooklyn apartment.
It’s true, I have turned up my nose at the list of mundane things I would normally deal with on the weekends but there’s a good reason for that and it’s called: partayyy! Hey, no shame in getting your groove on every so often.
Friday, I was asked to partake in social fun at a small event held at the Gansevoort Plunge Rooftop Bar where champagne flowed and dresses glittered in celebration of two lovebirds' engagement party.
The night was young as the guests of honor made their splashy entrance; The bride-to-be in her designer tulle minidress, the future groom in his smoking, James Bond-like elaborately coiffed hair. The tone was pretty much set right then and there. They totally reminded me of Model Gisele and husband Tom Brady only spicier! But just as un-relatable as far as "combined hotness level as a couple" go.
When I took my kid-diva to her ballet lesson the next morning, I had but a couple of hours sleep in and a mean muscle stretch in parts I didn’t even suspect had or were muscles. [But then again I never really scored too well in Biology to start with].
I swore I’d be in bed early enough by day end in order to make up for the lack of sleep, but I clearly lied (at least unintentionally this time).
Later that day, while hanging out with my family at an Art Gallery in Bushwick, I get a call from Lucinda, a fellow mom and a fabulous woman who insists on including me in the +3 next to her name printed on the guest list her good friend’s birthday celebration. That same night. Temptation is hard to resist as I picture one occasion worthy of strutting-in-low-rate-not-real-designer sequins dresses. Actually I was still hesitant until she mentioned our tot heads were welcome to tag along.
The party host, a savory Jazz musician though not a parent himself, was accommodating enough to let his guests and their offsprings enjoy a special quality time at night. One that didn’t involve bathtub feud, pajama drama or bedtime story fury!
I must say we all had loads of fun, even if that meant cutting off a conversation mid-sentence to save a couple of musical instruments and material, a giant-screen TV or glass windows from a certain doom at the hands of our kid-mpossibles! You can trust that things were touched, pushed, yanked and shoved by exploratory, fun-seeking children running havoc in the spacious loft apartment.
I swore I’d be in bed early enough by day end in order to make up for the lack of sleep, but I clearly lied (at least unintentionally this time).
Later that day, while hanging out with my family at an Art Gallery in Bushwick, I get a call from Lucinda, a fellow mom and a fabulous woman who insists on including me in the +3 next to her name printed on the guest list her good friend’s birthday celebration. That same night. Temptation is hard to resist as I picture one occasion worthy of strutting-in-low-rate-not-real-designer sequins dresses. Actually I was still hesitant until she mentioned our tot heads were welcome to tag along.
The party host, a savory Jazz musician though not a parent himself, was accommodating enough to let his guests and their offsprings enjoy a special quality time at night. One that didn’t involve bathtub feud, pajama drama or bedtime story fury!
I must say we all had loads of fun, even if that meant cutting off a conversation mid-sentence to save a couple of musical instruments and material, a giant-screen TV or glass windows from a certain doom at the hands of our kid-mpossibles! You can trust that things were touched, pushed, yanked and shoved by exploratory, fun-seeking children running havoc in the spacious loft apartment.
I certainly was happy to let my child experience a non kid-centric celebration, as memories of my own childhood fun-filled late-night outings with the parents, on a couple of occasions delightfully came to mind. What’s your fondest memory of a late-night outing with the parents as a child?
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