Written by Emily
Prepare to be blown away.
Let me back track. One of my favorite ladies and I live about 30 minutes away from one another, and we both squealed like middle schoolers when we decided to “stay home” with our children. In our minds, we’d see each other daily, spend endless hours gabbing, have play-dates for us…er, our kids… and well, hang out.
After a month of phone tag, AN ENTIRE MONTH, we FINALLY caught each other at the right time.
“Let’s hang out on Saturday,” she said flippantly, as though we do this all of the time.
I paused for a moment, checked the calendar in my head and then the one next to the fridge. My God. I can. I’m free.
“Okay,” I said very casually. Meanwhile my insides were doing cartwheels. GIRLS’ DAY! GIRLS’ DAY! GIRLS’ DAY!
And then someone on one of our ends started screaming, and we ended the conversation. That was Wednesday. Saturday morning we touched base again.
I was so excited. We could do anything, really. Sylvie only nurses in the morning and at night, so we had hours to revel in mom-day-out fun.
“What do you want to do?”
We used take weekend trips to nearby cities. We used to drink fancy drinks in cute glasses. We used to get dressed up in real heels. We did our hair. We wore trendy make-up.
I was excited.
And this time? Wait for it. Wait for it…
Time: 3:30. Are you thinking crazy middle of the night 3:30? No. No. 3:30 in the afternoon. That’s when the real fun happens anyway.
Where: Target. Not I have the target in my sights. The target was Target.
Why: Christmas shopping.
And, no, there is no more room on this fun train, it left the station.
When my husband found out our girls’ day out was a trip to Target, he laughed. And while he laughed, I saw fear in his eyes. Fear that said: “Oh no. This is her idea of a good time. She is climbing Middle-age Mommy Mountain, and she can’t even see real fun from where she is.”
What my husband didn’t realize was that the time and destination did not matter. I was given several hours of childless, girl time. I own this transition, the transition that makes a trip to Target or anywhere where I can catch my breath a welcome vacation. And to spend it with one of my favorite people? Score!
You don’t believe that this was really a fun day? Well, I think this will make you change your mind…
Not only did I get to savor a little respite in a cup, no one asked for a sip or begged for a cake pop or spilled hot chocolate down the front of their coats and onto the floor.
And then there was this:
We tried on clothing…and took as long as we wanted. Jealous yet? You will be when I tell you that no one climbed under the door on their hands and knees or suddenly thought it was a good time to talk about private parts in a really loud voice. And no one cried. Not even one time…and there were size changes happening.
Not sold yet?
How about now?
Well, check out this table runner.
I bought it…for a really good price because they were all mismarked. Thank you, store manager Sarah.
I even had fun buying these:
And would people not having fun do this?
Are you wondering if there were other people in the store? There were. But we didn’t care. That’s just how we roll.
We closed the night with an appetizer and drinks. Drinks is only plural because we both had one for a grand total of two drinks: one beer. one glass of wine.
When the glass looked like this:
it was VERY dark outside. We were probably going to close the bar.
When we left, we rolled down the windows and blasted music from our sweet ride. “Do you Hear What I Hear”–major Christmas classic. White Honda Odyssy. Yep. That’s a minivan. We did a few donuts in the parking lot and gave each other tattoos before heading home.
No we didn’t.
But seriously. Who is laughing now?
Okay, me. But that’s a good thing. I can’t wait for our next adventure!