Spring Break Ends Badly

In a rare act of spontaneity, I had a two hour lunch with a friend yesterday. We decided to drop our older boys off at the movie theater, then head to an Italian restaurant to share farfalle chicken alfredo, caprese salad and wine. Yes, I had wine at noon and felt thoroughly naughty! But I enjoyed it immensely, as well as our conversation. The food, the ambiance, the toast to our friendship. It was good for my soul. Every woman needs to have a fabulous two-hour lunch with a good friend and good wine every now and then.

Then today, on this last day of Spring Break, Little Squirt and I met another friend and her son at the theater to see “Horton Hears A Who.” Which reminded me never to go to that particular theater during Spring Break again. NOT EVER. The place was crowded and filthy. (And don't ask me about the bathrooms.) Little Squirt and I went in to find our seats while my friend bought their refreshments. It was packed. I finally spotted four seats in a row at the end of an aisle, and I walked over the legs of 14 Birthday Party Preschoolers to get to there. As I was almost to the empty seats, a rude, ill-bred father who clearly had no respect for common decency dropped two of his children over the guardrail and into the seats, and leaped over to join them. It took every bit of self-restraint I had not to throw my Pepsi at him. So I clambered back over the gauntlet of Preschoolers once again, stepping on sticky bubblegum and loose popcorn and enduring the kicks, only to find two groups of two seats together in the second and third aisles. My friend and I plopped our two little boys in front of us and sat behind them. We lay our heads back on the seats, suffering neck cramps, and I thought about yesterday’s glass of wine. They should definitely serve wine in movie theaters. Especially to stressed-out mothers during Spring Break.

Butterfly will return home tomorrow from her France trip. Super Hubs is breathing a huge sigh of relief, as he has watched her debit account drain moment by moment. It’s been a Father/Daughter dance performed in perfect rhythm. He adds to the account, she subtracts from it. Almost immediately. Add/Subtract. Add/Subtract. She has clearly channeled Paris Hilton this week, spending recklessly and spontaneously. I’m not certain that she’s seen anything of France other than the inside of all the boutiques. I am curious to see her pictures.(Did she actually have time to take any pictures, what with the shopping and all??) She sent me a text today that said she was looking to purchase a cool outfit to wear to the “Last Night Party.” The 32 outfits she packed from home evidently won’t do. And later she texted me to say that she was enjoying good wine (It’s legal there) with classmates and then planning a midnight Mediterranean swim, and an "all-nighter" to soak up every last bit of her trip.

Huh? Reveling in shopping. And traveling. And wine. And socializing until the wee hours. Embracing every last bit of life with abandonment. Wherever does she learn these things? I have no idea. (Wink. Wink.) Hmmmm.