Dave's annual office holiday party was Friday afternoon. Every year, their entire firm hops into a giant bus, drives up to the city and gets drunk on expensive booze at a fancy hotel. Much inebriated dancing a la Elaine Benes occurs. Wives are not invited.
On Saturday Mr. Pants and I headed out to a Las Madres Christmas Party in Los Altos. It was at this weird big 70's house way way way up in the hills. There were about 25 toddlers there and about 40 parents. I think this picture pretty much sums up the party:
I had a good time - especially since I hadn't seen any of the other moms in about 6 months - but I don't fit in well with the group. I see no real way to make friends with other moms at this point. Stay at home moms are busy on the weekends and working moms are even busier. And the women of Los Altos are generally in quite different circumstances than I am. I don't have the money to stay at home with my child, much less take him to a zillion Gymboree classes or like many of them, have a full time nanny to help out. They might as well be living on a different planet.
I found the party a bit exhausting. Chasing Mr. Curiosity around someone else's home while trying to make small talk and eat quiche is not exactly relaxing entertainment. But Alex had a ball - new faces, new toys, cute girlies, and a broom. Give the child a broom and he's a happy clam. Maybe, like me, when asked "what do you want to be when you grow up?" at his Kindergarten graduation, he'll respond "janitor" without hesitation.
After the party, I finally remembered to find the adorable outfits than Dan brought back from China last Christmas. They fit perfectly:
He played and played with his Aunt Sissy:
Saturday night was my office Christmas party, which actually ended up being fun, much to my surprise. After first offering to have the party at my house, figuring chasing Alex would be easiest with a home court advantage, I jumped at my mom's offer to have it at her house. Much bigger, literally designed for parties, toddler-proof and comes with babysitters built-in! It was a no-brainer.
So Mom helped me set the table and get ready and she watched the boyo the whole time. Everything was loverly and delicious and my coworkers were content. The only thing that was a bit awkward was the issue of my parents/family/Elita being there but not really being invited to the party. I mean, it's a big house and we could spread out and all, but they were there and not really included. It might have been ever weirder to include them, though, given that my family outnumbers my coworkers. It was a quandary.
And then!!??!? My mom and Elita did all the dishes. ALL. Of. Them.
I still feel bad about it. I had planned to ask my coworkers to help out after we finished our round of Balderdash, but by then they had finished all the clean-up. So. I have a party at their house, don't invite them and leave them to clean it up. It hasn't left me feeling warm and cozy about the experience. At all.
Anyhoo. Moving on. Sunday was, well, interesting.
After cajoling my husband into allowing me to sleep in until - make sure you're sitting down when you read this - until 8:30! in! the! morning! (you'd have thought I'd asked him cut off a limb), Alex and I headed to Target in an effort to finish up the Christmas list. It was relatively quiet and we got an excellent parking spot, so I figured we were off to a good start.
But then? Then I got greedy. I got hungry. And there was a Wendy's nearby. In fact, it was on our way to the next shopping stop on our list. And I just LUUUURVE me some Wendy's. So cheap! and! delicious! And so I ordered my child's size cheeseburger and my small fries and headed off to find trinkets in Los Gatos.
Then, as I was taking a scrumptious bite?
CRASH!!&*!^*&%
I hit the lady in front of me. I was only going about 10 miles an hour, so it was nothing major. It woke the boy up from his nap and upset him a little, damaged both our bumpers, but all in all it's the kind of car accident you hope for. The kind that reminds you to pay! attention!
The strange thing is that I have NO idea how it happened. Absolutely none. Have you ever driven home and can't remember how you got there? Driven rote? That's the best excuse I can offer. I just looked up when I heard the BANG. No idea how I got there.
That's what I get for eating a second cheeseburger in as many days.
But that wasn't the worst part of the day. No sir-eee-bob. Later on, after completing my shopping, by one o'clock in the afternoon, no less, I stupidly, stupidly moved a chair in our garage. One of our kitchen chairs. One of the kitchen chairs we bought because they were so! sturdy! and large!
I picked it up while standing next to it - sideways. And I royally screwed up my back. I knew it was stupid while I was doing it. So, I get through a car accident unscathed only to mess up my back moving a dining chair! Unfortunately, not much can be done for my back. Going to the doctor involves finding the time for an appointment, which I don't have. I can't take Advil, or Aspirin or Aleve or pretty much anything but Tylenol, which works about half as well as chocolate. If it gets bad enough, I suppose I can rummage around and find that half-used bottle of 14 month old Vicodin.
But Moms? We don't get a break. I MUST lift a 25 pound toddler in and out of the car no less than four times a day. I must pick him up about 50 more times throughout the evening - changing him, feeding him, nursing him. I MUST sit in this uncomfortable office chair for eight hours and then drive an hour home in a crooked, crooked driver's seat. There's just no way around it.
I mean, look at him:
Could YOU resist?
