We are just returning from an adventure with some of the muthas and their boys. It was the perfect end to our fun summer. My fingers have not touched a laptop in a week. I wrote nothing and drank a lot, so I probably forgot most of the funny stuff. I’m certain when the muthas are gathered that we are indeed television worthy. Part of the reason Archie Bunker was funny was because even though he was such an asshole, he had a funny dialect. It doesn’t take much for me to fall into the absolute yattiest New Orleans dialect ever, just because I think it’s hysterical and a fun way to speak, especially when I’m intoxicated. It’s a pure shame that most of the world doesn’t know what a yat is, or worse, what one sounds like.
I must say, a good way to judge your relationship with your friends is to live with them, if only for a short time. You are in awesome company if they don’t make you punch them! These muthas are fabulous and I am certain if we all had to quickly evacuate for a hurricane together or stay and be stuck without power for a week, we’d survive intact, even under stressful circumstances. When you live on the coast, this is important stuff to know. It’s even more important to know in the month of August, as we all cautiously eye the swirling blobs of energy approaching the Gulf of Mexico. It’s minor panic time.
The other muthas have one boy each, so we only had 5 boys total and three of them were 10 years old. That’s pretty easy. They had a blast swimming, fishing, crabbing, playing hide and seek, board games, and whatever other crazy games they made up. The whole week was boy heaven! It’s so great to love your friends’ kids too. I have other friends who don’t exactly parent like I do, and honestly their kids make me insane. After a few days, I want to lock them in a closet. These boys were all precious and despite some of the age differences with my little darlings, they did pretty darned good.
I was a little worried at first that we were in a fishing/crabbing haven with no daddy people present. We quickly established that the madwoman does indeed have a faux penis, even though my nickname is Princess. The faux penis works just fine in a pinch, and it enables me to do some manly stuff involving fish heads and fixing things, even though I do it with lipstick on and in platform sparkly flip flops.
The faux penis was a perfect match for the faux beach in Mississippi, which bore the brunt of Hurricane Katrina. I immediately felt guilty upon arrival that all the focus has always been on New Orleans going 12 feet under water, because this place was actually flattened and deleted from the map. It’s been 7 years. I was blown away to hear they just got real streets last year. The houses that have been rebuilt along the beach are gorgeous, and the sand trucked in from Florida creates a most beautiful albeit deceiving beach. The Gulf of Mexico is really more like a bay here due to some of Louisiana’s islands, and the close proximity to the mouth of the Mississippi River means the water is brown, not crystal clear. The boys couldn’t have cared less. Princess Beach Snob was the only one to declare that it was like swimming “in da Vetrans canal.” I can’t help it. I used to live on the real beach. The house has a beautiful pool in the front yard, with an awesome view of the ocean. Something equally fabulous about Mississippi is that it looks a lot like New Orleans, because there are huge oak trees everywhere. There’s something really charming about an ocean breeze being jacked up as it whips through the oak trees. It’s heavenly. The homeowners are bar none the most organized people I have ever encountered. I will now be forced to organize all my belongings into labeled baskets, because it looks really cool and makes you feel like you’re living in a magazine.
I feel like summer is truly over now, and it’s time for me to focus on school and start frantically gathering school supplies. Middle darling is going to real school this year, and I can’t believe he’s old enough. I may need some Prozac. I love him so much, and I’m so proud of what he’s overcome in a year’s time. I just want a good life for him, a normal life, and I swear I’m starting to be convinced that we might even be normal.
We caved and let little darling watch Caillou on the way home. As the little whiney butt Caillou droned on and on about his dad, little darling sang along but changed the word “daddy” to “mommy” in the song. He gave me a shy smile when I turned back to look at him. My heart melted at once. I am the daddy too. The Princess does have a penis.
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