31 ain’t 21

February is the month that ends our long season of holidays and birthdays. We have a birthday in October, November, December and February. With all the holidays mixed in, this year our two closest family friends had kids with birthdays in those months too. So it seemed as though every weekend I was making a cake and celebrating someone or something.

So when February 12th rolled around, I was spent. I didn’t care it was my birthday I was ready for a friggin break!

And a break I got.

My friends and I planned to do a night out on the town in Raleigh. We got a snazzy hotel room and planned to bar hop. Three of the four of us had birthdays coming up so we figured why not make a big deal out of it?

We all left our kids with our husbands. Well I dropped mine off with my in laws and basically ran out of their house like a dog in heat escaping the front door.

I WAS FREEEEEEEEEEEE!

I got home and started with a tequila Sunrise by my daggum self while pumping just to make sure I wouldn’t end up engorged by dinner time.

My friends showed up and we all had some drinks (except the one driving yall) and while pumping I decided to paint my nails. So picture me one heavily poured drink in, pumping bra in place with wet nails, my friends, being the gracious ladies they are, helped snap my tots back into place and off we went!

If that ain’t the sexiest moms night out bra y’all 😂. Nothing says you’re a mom in your thirties like a nice practical, full coverage nursing bra and a good friend to clip it closed for you.

I will say this, even if all we had was the drive up to Raleigh it would’ve been enough! We laughed so hard we cried, we talked about all the things, listened to music from our ”prime” years. At one point, Chelseys ring doorbell was going off so much it was interrupting our music. Kristen quickly said “tell Mike to get in the house and STAY there!” We made sure to tell him as much:

We showed up to that hotel like we owned the place. We told anyone that would listen “we are without kids tonight and we are here to party”. No one listened though, because we were four average women in our thirties checking into a single hotel room. But in our minds we looked very sex in the city.

In reality we were anything but. With the sugar from the alcohol we all don’t normally drink, it got really hot in the room. So Kristen and I ended up pant-less discussing which outfit to wear. Which resulted in all of us essentially putting on a fashion show, swapping out pants, shirts, eye lashes and bras until we all ended up content with how we looked. If you’ve ever watched a rom com and thought the females doing a clothing swap/getting ready gathering, full of laughter and make up was a cliche, it is, but it’s also 100% what happens when females get ready together. We have pictures but, I mean this blog doesn’t get paid so, ain’t no free body parts getting flashed about here!

I should explain right now, that we look HOT all done up. But also, two of us were lactating. So we had to bring a breast pump with us. Everywhere we went. I ended up calling her Louisa by the end of the night. We got all dolled up, late as expected, took a shot of Cabo Waba, finished our beverages and out the door we went.

We probably should’ve just stayed in. See the hotel shared parking with a public parking deck. So Chelsey and Jenny (the two photographers) went out at sunset (perfect creative lighting) to put the parking pass in the car. While Kristen got to sit with me in the hallway as that Cabo just snuck RIGHT up on me! So the two photographers were captivated by the lighting and overcome by the creative itch. Kristen was babysitting me, both of us convinced that the other two got lost. For some reason at this point in the evening I truly felt my husband 40 miles away would know where my friends disappeared to. He did not, nor was he nearly has concerned as I at that point. We found them, approximately four minutes later after searching the vehicle (perhaps they were hiding there) and then meeting them at the corner of the parking deck. Where I had to pee, so I did just that because, well because life happens and I couldn’t feel my face so let’s leave that there. The laughter y’all, the laughter was so medicinal! I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in a long while.

So where did the two photographers disappear to? The top floor of the parking deck, to capture some photos in perfect lighting. Meanwhile my very intoxicated self was on a search and rescue in heels, toting Louisa around while Kristen followed behind hoping I didn’t end up with a public intoxication charge before we even got to appetizers. That being said, their photos turned out amazing. See, my friends have some real talent ⤵️

That part of the night is where all of our great photos came from. We went out for appetizers, where Kristen promptly cut me off at 1830. She was doing me a favor because had I asked for a drink, they wouldn’t have served me. Listen I’ve been pregnant or breastfeeding for 8 years yall! Let me live my life and have a night. So we ate, everyone else drank and Jenny and I slowly came to an appropriate level of intoxication. More on that later, while Kristen went from 30-80 real fast. Of note this place insisted on reservations which was silly because they had maybe four tables of people there.

Anyway, we went to an Italian place, where the owner (from Italy, or had a really good fake accent) sat at the door and tried to convince us to buy a bottle of prosecco for $40. That is Kristen’s jam yall, but we all concluded we didn’t need that big bottle he showed us. That nice old man let Jenny and I pump in his office. Which was a bizarre experience. Sitting there surrounded by restaurant finance papers, the guys prescription bottle and workers buzzing around, hearing dinner conversation on the other side of the makeshift wall and just casually hanging out, lactating with my friend. It was during this time that Kristen ended up drinking the equivalent of that big bottle of Prosecco anyway, which drove her from that 80 to 100. But we were moms out without kids, we told this to the bartender and then we did shots and the nice old man owner tried convincing us to save money on an uber so he could drive us to a topless bar.

Hard Pass Sir. I’d like to keep my skin on my body. Thank you.

We bolted out that door. And stumbled onto some scooters that we thought would be a great idea to attempt to ride while waiting for our Uber. No one was hurt in the process. We got in the Uber and Kristen convinced our driver to stop using his “fabreezes” yes that’s what he said, and start buying essential oil. She’s quite the sales lady inebriated and concerned for his chemical safety. Frabreezes. Chelsey and I couldn’t stop cackling in the back. Kristen though felt a kin to the man.

We landed at a bar called the Tavern, which was mostly dead. All of us (except Kristen) were wearing birthday sashes or crowns and we just wanted to dance! But we wanted to dance to our music, not the current hip hop trendy music. When Kristen tried to bat her eye lashes at the DJ, he visibly ignored her and tried shooing her away 🤣. Kristen spilled her drink on the dance floor, breaking it down, by her dang self and kept reiterating to me that yes she was very intoxicated but it was an appropriate time in the evening to be so, not at 1830. To which I have to say this:

When you’re without your kids, having a night out on the town. It’s okay to be that drunk at 1830 if you want, it’s okay because the minute you tell someone. “I have four kids, no older than 7 no younger than 1” they nod and they leave you alone. Much like the four women we passed on our way to the first car that picked us up. They actually said “go on, have yourself a night”.

Eventually we gave up trying to have our music played, if Kristen with her dimples, southern charm and long lashes couldn't win the DJ over none of us would. So we left and went to our final stop for the evening.

The Ugly Monkey. At this point, my boobs were screaming and they had no outlets in their bathroom. The state of my engorged boobs was impossible to ignore, as evidenced by the man that turned his head to tell me he noticed my ring and all the good ones are taken as we walked in. He must not have also noticed Louisa right there on my arm and the veins popping out of my boobs with the look of discomfort on my face. I was flattered just the same. There wasn’t a nice old man offering his office at this place. So when we found an outlet by a high top table, next to the pool tables, next to the bar, I sat myself down and pumped y’all 🤣. I made eye contact with some guy hula hooping, he looked at me for a minute then confusion spread across his face before he awkwardly and rather aggressively looked away. Never to look back again.

Jenny and Kristen sat at the bar talking to two women in their 50’s while Chelsey sat with me pumping. When I finished we were both ready to go, we went to round up the others. They had shots of fireball waiting for us. Which we took, then in effort to get the bartender to stop his banter with Kristen, I sat Louisa up on the bar. He saw the pump, a look of realization crossed his face and he basically ran to the other end of the bar. To the 50 year old women to be precise. That’s when the Bob Saget look alike who doesn’t really look like him at all closed out the tab and we went outside. Bob came out for a smoke with his friends and we just felt like we should talk to him. It was actually his friends called us an Uber, or apped it. Honestly I don’t know how that all works, again with the me not knowing how to adult thing.

So the car shows up and Kristen runs to it going “Jonathon?!! Jonathan!!!!” It wasn’t fabreezes guy. It was just some man trying to get to the hotel as fast as possible because now Chelsey was the only one somewhat coherent.

In the hotel lobby, we ransacked the snack area like four toddlers home from preK. We all dropped arms full of snacks onto the counter mumbling the room number while Kristen hushed us, convinced that the hired security was going to arrest us. In reality, the hired security was laughing at us and the police officer was playing a game on his phone. We made it to the room, with all the snacks and Kristen felt the need to call her husband (it was like 0230 at this point) to tell him all about the night. Bless his heart, he listened, he even listened to me when I took the phone to tell him that his wife had a chip on her shoulder but she ate it and then repetitively reassure him she was alive despite laying very still on the floor. We were pant less again at that point. Except Chelsey, in her somewhat coherent state, she fully changed and had eye strips on under each eye. She sat there recording the chaos while we all chugged water and scarfed food hoping it would make the morning a little less awful.

That hope was just that, a hope not the reality. Jenny and Chelsey were up all night, their 30 year old bodies not happy with the way we partied. Kristen was out cold and my boobs rudely woke me up at 0600, to find Jenny pumping in the dim light of her phone. So there we sat, two still drunk but also somehow hung over, lactating moms, the morning after going entirely too hard the night before. A few hours later Kristen came to life confused why everyone was awake. Two of us had bowels actively trying to dispense all alcohol that had ever touched them and two of us had bowels that felt like they should be doing the same but were too unhappy we messed with our normal routine to let go of anything consumed the night before. These are things that don’t happen in your 20’s but are the normal abnormal in your 30s.

Eventually we made it out the door for brunch. With a hotel coffee in hand we each piled into the car, sunglasses on and entered into a still sort of quiet that only follows a night like the one we had.

Chelsey drove us to the restaurant Tupelo Honey. The GPS I think knew we were hung over and really wanted to teach us a lesson because it had us on every round about possible. I was in the back clinging to the door trying not to vomit, Jenny was looking straight ahead trying not to look left or right and Kristen was physically holding her head up with her hands because her body wasn’t ready to do that by itself yet. On the last round about Kristen mumbled “if you take one more turn, I am going to vomit in your car”. Chelsey laughed, nervously like please do not vomit in my car and I sighed in relief, grateful I wasn’t the only one dying.

It took four cups of coffee, part of a breakfast, two liters of liquid IV and the warmth of the sun to make us all feel human. We had to stop and pee on the ride home because of all the coffee. At one point, Kristen had a bloody mary, orange juice, water and coffee in front of her.

Anything to make the hang over better right?

The ride home was an experience. Jenny and I had to pump in the car because somehow it took forever to get home. We were all queasy and frantically chewing mint gum to help with that while putting mint oil on our wrists. It smelled like an 80 year old arthritic man in that car. The GPS decided to take us off the highway and onto the scenic route. It took 27 days to get home. We entered into this weird time warp and while we were moving, of that I’m sure, somehow we weren't getting closer to home.

We finally made it back to our homes and it was radio silence for a few days.

When I talked to Kristen next, I told her I was tired for like three days after that, she said

“It’s because we aren’t 21 anymore, we are 31 and we went out and acted like we were 18. Our bodies cant do it anymore”.

Truer words have never been spoken.