I broke out

 This past weekend was Mr. Darcy's 20 year high school reunion. I broke outta the darlin' funhouse to attend. It was a guilty pleasure. It's like this every time I break out. I have trouble sitting in a QUIET car with Mr. Darcy-ALONE. And not because he's delightfully witty and always smells like something fantastic. I simply cannot get used to the action being only in the front seat. Hey wait, don't get any ideas there. I was referring to the lack of chaos in the two rows behind me. I was able to turn on the radio as opposed to the squeaky kid CD that lives in our head five hours after we've gotten outta the car. I was able to put my lipstick on in the mirror. Yes, without having to stop, throw my lipstick down, crawl over the seat to calm the screaming baby or separate the darlin's from the non-stop you can't touch me game. It was like a graveyard back there-just the sound of quiet. I think the reason mamas don't like the quiet is due to the fact that the quiet usually means someone is doing something they shouldn't be doing. Like painting your nail polish on the new blouse you just bought. So if I head out for a date with Mr. Darcy and I have the luxury of quiet I am split right down the middle like a crazy chick. I hear this is called cognitive dissonance-two competing ideas. So I guess that is kind of like sanity and love of raising children-otherwise known as my normal state of existence. Frickity Frack, so as soon as we got to the party, and the much needed noise, we felt like two bona fide jailbirds. I was glad to find that we were in pretty good company. Everyone there had a handful of children-give or take-and most knew the chaos that is your life at the 20-year reunion mark. Will we all be twittling our thumbs at the empty nest reunion? Who knows. I did enjoy all this conversation, but really I am so dreadfully out of practice. Wouldn't you think a mama spending all day long with four smarty pants chatterbox darlin's would be on her game with the chatter at a social event? Yeah, you'd be wrong. Too many intelligent conversations going on in my house ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Heaven help me. Sometimes I think I am completely pyscho to be able to actually hear all four of them and rotate to each eventually with an answer. How in the world do I do that? Of course, later in my sleep I twitch. Maybe that has something to do with it. Everything in the mama hood eventually boils down to good ole yin-yang, right? ;-) So anyway it was very nice to talk to other non-juice-needing people. It was nice to dance with someone I don't have to lead-well, most of the time. It was nice to RELAX at a table with friends and eat my meal without having my sweet darlin's practice their vulture routine on my plate. But the night had to end and the dance music always plays out to that last cheesy song and it was time to get back to the Groundhog Day life we have chosen. Of course by the early a.m., I was really ready to get back to the juiced-up darlin's anyway cause I am totally crazy, twitching addicted to them and their sweet noise.