I am obsessed with Beachfront Bargain Hunt. It is a show on HGTV, where idiots show up on St. Thomas and tell a realtor “We are ready to buy our beachfront dream house! Our budget is $250,000!” And the realtor proceeds to show them a broom closet 10 miles from the ocean, because the only water you’re cozying up to for that price is in a mop bucket.
It was on this show that a woman (who had decided she would be willing to put her 4 children in one room, in some bizarro Willy Wonka grandparents-bed maneuver) said to her husband: It would be great if the kids were here, but I guess I’m having fun anyway.
Wait. What? Babe, rewind that. No, no, I have to hear what she said. Okay, she said it. She really said it. She’s eating a lobster dinner on the beach and she wants her KIDS there? No she does not. I call bullshit. Now go all the way back to the beginning, where they introduce themselves. I am googling their address. They need slapped in person, and I haven’t used my passport yet.
I get it. I’m a mom. It’s hard to leave your kids for more than a day or two. I once spent a week in Vegas, and was so worried about being away from my kid that I forgot to pack underwear for both of us. I cried when he called and asked if ‘maybe they were hiding somewhere in the suitcase he just didn’t see’. Then I wiped my tears, threw $200 on the craps table, and proceeded to have an amazingly inappropriate panty-free week.
Somehow we feel like we can’t admit to having fun without our kids. We are compelled to keep it a secret, buried next to the baby lotion that causes cancer but smells oh-so-good, the Tuesday dinners of Kraft mac n’ cheese with NO veggies hidden inside, and the crush you have on your 27 year-old pharmacist that has had you faking the need for The Pill for the last three years.
No one is saying you have to shout your child-less fun from the rooftops, but don’t overcompensate like the HGTV mom. Because I promise you – you do NOT want your kids there when you throw back CasaMigos shots at 11am, or use the back of the cab for a little zippity-doo-dah with the spouse, or decide to follow the man telling you he can get you ‘a lee-tle sum-ting gangja’ into a Jamaican alley. (Panties optional.)
© Calling All Cool Moms 2017