- Beautiful weather.
- Casual weekend without any plans.
- A burning desire to have a social gathering.
The planets align, so we throw together a last minute fiesta in the back yard. We invite a few close friends, give them assignments as what to bring for the fajita bar, ready the yard and house, and get cookin'. I LOVE to host gatherings at our house...especially backyard gatherings. Our house is small but our yard is big, shaded, relatively private, and has plenty of space and play options to occupy the kiddos. I'm in my prime all day doing this and that getting ready for the arrival of our guests. By 6:00 when guests are set to arrive I'm all fancied up, apron on, and ready for a fiesta!
We chat, we laugh, we eat, we drink. Kids play. It's perfect. Being as I've not eaten well all day because I've been running on the adrenaline of preparations, simply forgetting to sit down and put food in my belly, the margaritas start going to my head fast. I'm feeling good. Everyone is having fun. The food is delicious.
The sun starts to dip, the bugs come out, kiddos start to yawn. We clean up and plans are made to move part of the party to a local establishment once kids are bedded down for the night. An hour after we part, we're back together again, new place, new drinks, same fun.
And then this is where I get all crazy. Tequila, gin and tonics, Fat Tire. Let's just say ample drinks are consumed. Sometimes I just get a wild hair and throw all caution to the wind. Yes, I'm well aware of what's ahead, but I get caught up in the fun, apparently turning off my common sense for the night. At some point I'm pretty sure I become that annoying drunk friend who is now SUPER social and outgoing, the alter ego of my normal more reserved, sober self.
Before we know it, the bar is closing down and we're (a fav gal pal of mine who came into town to hang for the night...and to snuggle my girlies) hoofin' back to my house to rustle up whatever yummy goodies we can find to fill our grumbly bellies. It doesn't take us long to scarf down a few snacks and make our way to bed to pass out...it's approximately 2:15 am. Fun was had by all.
Morning comes and reality rises with the sun. Kiddos start waking up at 6:30. My very loving and kind husband keeps the little one occupied while the oldest goes to snuggle Miss Marie. Thankfully she goes back to sleep allowing Miss Marie a couple more hours rest. After a brief stumble to the wizzer (that one's for you Carlos), I nestle myself down in bed for a couple extra hours.
8:30, the sun is shining bright, the birds are singing. I'm now awake and the guilt is starting to settle in for the day. My normal responsible self has returned and it's scolding the crazy girl from last night. My left temple is knocking, my mouth full of cotton, my tummy lets out an unhappy rumble. After laying in bed for 20 minutes holding silent conversations with myself about sleep vs. domestic duties, I get up for a glass of water and to make some coffee. The slow hazy day of "hung-over" begins. I promised homemade waffles with strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast.
Thankfully, this scene only plays out once or twice a year. Every time I say "I'll never do that again!", but apparently it's kinda like the pain of child birth. Given enough time, we forget the pain. Thankfully my family is content to spend a lazy day at home, catering to mommy's less than normal energy level. I'm the hardest on myself. It bothers me that I didn't ride today. It bothers me that I wasted a day recovering with a super busy week ahead, instead of doing last night's dishes. Silly, silly girl.
But alas, it's summer, and a lazy Sunday afternoon is perfect for moments like this.
A hammock, two blondies in their swimmin' suits, the sun, and watermelon juice dripping down our chins. Life doesn't get much sweeter than that...even on hazy "hung-over" days.
It was a fun night...