And They Say Kids Keep You Young - The Lying Bastards

I survived Chuck E. Cheese with copious amounts of caffeine (which backfired that night when I had to pee, oh, roughly 300 times) and my sanity intact, and just minor bruises to my ego.

What's that? You want to know more? Well of course I'll indulge you and tell you the whole story. Who else can I bore with my trials and tribulations? Dave just pretends to listen and while Taffy's a nice dog she's just not a good conversationalist.

I arrived at the party and sent my delirious offspring to run screaming through the restaurant with the other 6-7 year olds. Thanks to my Mom I was able to go without the younger weeping sleepy children. Of course I neglected to tell my Mom about the weepy/sleepy thing before I dropped them off. But I'm not stupid. Not about to shoot myself in the foot.

So I am trying hard to mingle with the few other Moms that were also there. I saw one Mom that looked to be around my age holding a tiny baby girl. I saw this as an opportunity to chat about our common baby girls. As I talked she began to realize what I was thinking and she corrected me, "Oh this isn't my daughter. I'm the Grandma."

I know at 38 I'm what they euphemistically term an "older mom". But it was a bit disconcerting to realize I was now gravitating toward the Granny age group. I'd like to tell you it was only because she looked fantastic for her age, but no, she looked to be what she was, in her mid 40's.

And today a good, but much younger, friend of mine who also had a daughter this past February came to visit. As we were talking I made a comment about her daughter's adorable shoes and stated that when Sabrina was still an only child "she had a shoe wardrobe to rival Imelda Marcos." My friend smiled politely and nodded. I said, "You don't know who Imelda Marcos is, do you?"

I have officially become my Mother.