A Quarter Life Crisis

Back when the Best Friend was preggers with my Godson to be, I secretly hoped he would be born on my birthday. It wasn’t a selfish thought it was one of those I want to be an ultra exceptional God Mommy who shares her birthday with her special little guy…OK maybe it was selfish, whatever. Anywho it was what I wanted you know because me don’t wants little bundles. Trust my vicarious motherhood through the Best Friend and Wander has helped enough to pretty much scorch out any inkling of mom gene in me…believe it folks. Of course Fate/Mother Nature/Whatever Higher Power You Subscribe To decided it wasn’t meant to be. Instead my Godson was born 10 days after my birth making him a Libra (what kinda of jacked up sh*t…and who’s a Libra anyway no offense to the Libras in the house), I mean those Powers could have hooked me up with the same sign…bastards.

Now originally the Best Friend and Dapper Dan were having a bowling party at one of my favorite hang outs, North Bowl for the Godson but it was changed to an in the house party for the tots at Dapper Dan’s house…way low key…me likes. Well me likes besides the clean up that takes place after tons of little people run through a home all hopped up on Capri Suns and Candy. Kids are sadistic little something or others when they’re coming down off a sugar high…it is at this point I find the nearest parent and run for the hills.

When the good Lord passed out the mothering gene’s I was getting an extra dose of snarky or something…I don’t know!

While setting up the Transformer Streamers and trying to stop the Godfather from molesting me in front of the few scattered children and my Godson’s Granny I started thinking about what I was doing when I was five. Yup I had a nostalgia moment. It could have been triggered by some rather depressing news I received Friday from the Male Nurse Friend or it could have been the party itself that sparked the memories but for what it’s worth here it is.

When I was five I was on top of the world, not literally but you’re sipping my kool-aid I know you are. I lived at the time in a northern Jersey suburb…a cul-de-sac nonetheless with grass as far as my eyes could see and that space was my world so it was only right to be the princess of the castle. The Little Brother was but 1 and hadn’t quite developed that bow-legged cowboy walk that was his signature for years to come. He later outgrew the bow legged stride without braces or breaking of bones suggested by those Nazis doctors. The Man Wander Married I think was on tour in Japan but I had sweet memories of him (God how time and age change things) whisking me into his arms with brown lunch bags full of shoe strings and mary janes and any type of candy you could think of.

Yup I remember those Cabbage Patch sheets with Rainbow Brite kitchen set days with a fondness. I recall them with an air of I could do anything with my lifeness and optimism that later became active cynicism. At five no one thinks about the sadness that sometimes happens in life. It’s a good thing. It’s actually a wonderful thing. I mean of course some folk have jacked up childhoods and they’re probably not as stress-free as my early adolescence. Of course what came later wasn’t all peaches and cream but I can say that those Rainbow Brite days were fantubulously great. And really it could be because without having an adult understanding of some situations makes life a little happier as a kid.

Take for instance that only about half the folk that should have showed for the party made an appearance. Do you think this fazed my Godson…not a chance he was stoked to see all his aunts, uncles, random cousins and open gifts. Now his parent’s totally different story in particular I believe Dapper Dan yelled at his sister and told her not to come since she was over 3hrs late for a party that was only slotted for 3 hours.

If you can add you realize Dapper Dan’s sister showed after the party was scheduled to end…of course she wasn’t the only offender…damn I hate colored folk time…with a serious passion.

Anywho back to the title of this here posting…to be five again would be nice and if I could go back there I would hug the Man Wander Married one last time because he was a true dad then and I would eat a brown lunch bag full of candy with reckless abandon for my teeth.

So blog friends, blog lurkers and my faithful blog readers what would you do if you were 5 again?

Today I woke up without the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Uneasy aka icky alcohol from the night before still inhibiting my stomach lining and lurking in wait for me to wake before rushing out my mouth. It's a small price to pay to the party gods. Nurse Friend is already talking about bigger and better for next year. I told her to give me at least until February to begin the planning of it all.

So the fallout. Should I act oblivious and fake intoxicated amnesia? I'm sure, completely sure The Godfather isn't going to let me forget passing bedroom eyes induced by Vodka at him all night. Cranberry Absolute definitely has a crush on him. A few weeks ago I could hide behind the non dating thing. Now I have to hurt feelings and just say, hey you know what I'm just not that into you.
It sounds bad and this is so the reason why people lie, it lessens the brunt force of total rejection.

Did I mention giving Nurse Friend's number out to 21 Jump Street's buddy? Funny how intoxication triggered some weird phone number total recall because since dragging her digits from the cellie it's been committed to memory for life. I recited it back to her without looking earlier today.

Despite spilling my guts like a floosie on Sunday I still managed to someway pull a number. OK not exactly a number, since I already have 21 Jump Street's number in my phone but now I'm not cowering behind the veil of friendship. He knows how I feel and have felt since college days. Are we still on for football on Sunday?

He also knows that a mutual acquaintance(there's a ginormous back story here that I can't get into) lied about me dating one of his friends (OMG everyone knows I don't do short men and said acquaintance had a major hard on for 21) and that I never dated Male Nurse Friend (I mean he's like my brother). But I digress.

So what does it mean when a man remembers the exact outfit you wore when you first met?

And long story short it feels oh so wonderful to reunite with my sober clear thinking mind. Problem, dealing with the consequences of one night of un-sober fun.

P.S. Nurse Friend has started bowling troubles.