Six Martini Hangover

That sounds problematic, doesn't it? Saturday night I attended a Manicures and Martinis party.

My girls came along, as they were the responsible ones for the evening, and were being paid to watch the children of all the martini soaked mothers at the party.

We had made plans to stay the night, which turned out to be my downfall. When you don't have a time you need to be home and you know you can be irresponsible and you spend your waking hours during the workweek being the most responsible person in your home? Well. It turned out to be one hell of a party.

Imagine a dozen friends, a bartender who mixed tasty but wisely measured drinks, manis and pedis for all, and all the hooting and hollering that oh, ten hours, of bonding will get you. The slumber party? I don't care if you're sixteen or thirty-six or a hundred. We really need one at least once a year.

The funny (or sad) thing was, the children were the most well-behaved people in the home all night. We saw them once, when my girls led them downstairs sometime before midnight to give us a fashion show. They had dressed up the little girls, given them their own manicures, and had them strut down the runway to the iPod teddy bear speakers blasting Supermodel." We screamed and whistled and cheered them on, and they all looked at us like we were wayyy out of control and quietly went upstairs to continue their evening.

Now it's Monday morning. I did nothing yesterday. No work, no writing, no attention to deadlines. I sat on the couch and drank green tea and complained of malaise. Even this morning the girls have been up already for some time. As I stumbled downstairs I was met by Maddie, a steaming cup of coffee, and the instructions that we were out of fresh fruit for lunches.

I'm not looking forward to day two of a headache and all the catching up I have, but I'm rather loving this peek into the world as "Mother with Responsible Children."

I should party more often. Happy Monday - I am going to go gnaw my way into an ibuprofen bottle.