peevish mama

Beautiful detritus.  Beautiful night.  Thank you to my friends for humoring my attempt to get all our kids to eat with us at my big long Who table.  By the time the adults were done filling cups of Sprite and sparkling grape juice and getting The Nine settled at their end of the table, finally sinking into their seats with a sigh and a toast, The Nine were done eating and off like the wind.  Frankly, we were glad to see them go, but someday . . . someday they will stay and eat, they will linger and converse . . . we will hear bursts of laughter from their end of the table and they won’t let us in on the joke . . . and then someday they will . . . and someday even farther away, they will drink wine with us, help us cook, teach us new recipes, bring their babies . . . and the Who table will grow and grow and grow.

The Nine were taken home or put to bed around ten o’clock . . . and then things really got cooking.  Doctor Dash’s Holiday Bliss was working its magic . . . as was his genius DJing.  We drank and laughed and drank and danced and laughed . . . repeat.  The night flew by in a happy trippy blur.  A few times, amid the chaos, the conversation veered back to the kids . . . We love our kids.  But we also love our fun.  What to do?  How to blend?  How to hit that sweet spot . . . create the fattest overlap possible on the old Venn Diagram?  What can we do now to ensure that when the tables are turned, our kids will want us around, consider us friends, actually enjoy hanging out with us?  We think we’re fun, but will they?  My theory is: include them from the beginning, so the magic of a good dinner, a good party . . . works itself into their bones – becomes part of who they are – and if they associate their parents with good times and celebration along with the drudge of life, then so much the better.  

And then all thoughts of the children flittered away like pieces of confetti on the wind . . . We had the grown-up business of a rockin’ throw down to attend to.  Nanook, Gear Daddy, Crackerjack, Renaissance Man, Sweet Jessamine, Ivory Tickler, and I can’t forget Scratch who bravely and sweetly came solo because his wife, Hot Breeches, was still out of town at her family’s – thank you all for showing up with your arms full of lovely food and beautiful beverages, for thinking of the things that I didn’t think of, for bringing your dancing shoes and fully and completely and unfetteredly getting your groove on with us.  You warmed our house and our hearts and it was a true pleasure to ring in the new year with you all . . . albeit 1 minute 26 seconds too late.  

Oooof.  Our bad.