Ah, the promised PPP (post-party post). Indeed I am a girl of my word. Too bad I wasn't a girl of my word last night when I told myself on the walk to the party that I would have two drinks max. I guess I am better about keeping promises to other people (like a bevy of strangers on the Internet) than I am to myself. Fodder for another time.
The night was full of sizzle and drizzle and a huge success. The night was full of food and laughter and revelry. And Patron. Yes, tequila. T's genius friend decided that the open bar provided was not quite sufficient and ordered a round of shots for everyone. Thanks, man. Anyway, I am not going to get all whiny about my as-predicted headache because I took care of that on the car ride home. Instead I will paint you a portrait of T's momentous night.
To kick things off, we gathered in Mom's hotel room at the New Haven Hotel which was a bit of a dusty and musty establishment. But because I am not at all spoiled, the hotel was fine with me. Totally. We gathered and sipped champagne while T opened her gifts. C and I bought T an amazing pair of shoe/heel/bootie things which strike me as perfect for prancing around a college campus. Sizzle all the way for our baby sis. After presents, we braved the ominous drizzle and made our way to the restaurant where we were shown to an amazing private room with a very long table and lots of yummy things to consume.
The night was off to a promising start. I ordered a glass of Pinot Grigio from the very nice (and tolerant) waiter and he carded me! This made my night. I might not be twenty-one, but apparently I look it! Younger even. So, I handed over my ID and said Thank you. I'm thirty and I have two babies! And the nice and tolerant waiter humored me and then fetched my wine. I guess the whole carding thing made me feel so young and invincible that I decided to roll with it and act like a college kid. When in Rome. I channeled my latter day self, chatting with T's friends, snapping silly and incriminating pics, and gulped with gusto. Things got wild and fast. I will spare you the details. Because these kids have bright futures ahead of them and I don't want to compromise anything by talking about vomit and beer showers. That wouldn't be nice.
By far, the best part of the evening was seeing the actual twenty-one-year-old, T, so happy. First of all, she looked stunning and sophisticated in her funky dress, chignon, and colorful earrings. But aside from her knockout status, she smiled all night, flitting back and forth between friends and family. I wish I could post a picture of this happy girl on her happy night.
But then. This morning. I woke up with a headache. Shocker of the century. And my entirely unpredictable headache reminded me of cliched things, but one thing stood out: I am not twenty-one. I am not a college kid and as much as I revere sizzle, I like safe sometimes too. As much as that campus conjures magical memories, I was happy to head home. I literally couldn't wait to see my girls. And we all celebrated our return by having a wonderful macaroni and cheese party with Grammy and Dad-Dad. It was Toddler's idea and it was a fantastic one at that. All six of us wore bibs and sat around the table and ate the mac Toddler helped Husband make.
I sat there and looked around me, at the scattered trappings of adult life and family chaos, at those simple little noodles in my Dora bowl and I thought, Now this is my kind of party. Because as much fun as last night was, I'm no longer there. I'm here. A mother. A wife. A thirty-year-old. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now I am going to settle in for a rocking movie night on the couch with Husband where I will knock back glass after glass of water.