Party Like A Parent

You know the saying what God has for you is for you? True words man, truer words. A couple of weeks ago I was with family gatherin and reunionin and shit. Let me stop right here and say that I was one of two female cousins over the age of 25 there. My male cousins are plentiful. And they were all there, either married with kids, bunned up with kids, had a child with them (cause they take of they kids) but mother of child/girlfriend/wifey was not present, or just bunned up without kids. I was pretty much the only “grown” person flying solo. So I was left to sit with the widowed old great aunties and reminisce on a simpler time.

Anyway. Once the old biddies went to bed immediately after sunset, it was me hangin’ with the youngins’ (and I’m really using this term loosely) who all seemed to have forgotten they had children. There we were ten grown folk crammed in a small hotel room enjoying an array of alcoholic beverages. It was all good in the neighborhood until… The children began running every which way. “Get in the bed,” the adults would scream. The four kids would jump and huddle into the double sized bed and giggle away. Until… They would get out of the bed and run around some more. And who could blame them? The lights were still on, the television was blaring, the adults were telling lively stories riddled with cuss words and appropriate hand gestures, while laughter erupted and hung in the air. It was a par-tay! Until… “Get in the bed,” the adults would scream. And so this merry-go-round ride went on until I got a headache and had to take it to my own bed.

Now don’t get me wrong, Rum Punch likes a drank and a good time. But I have always thought that once I became a mother I would have to tuck some of my “wild” ways away. This is not to say that good times would be gone forever. But this is to say that I always assumed there would be an appropriate time and place for these good times. And in my mind it involves the kids asleep at the house being watched by Big Mama while my huzband and I are at somebody’s house party, or on a mini weekend vacay with another couple getting our drink, party, love making (not swinger style though) and then our sleep on. I always thought that when you become a parent, you have to let some things go. If you’re sharing a room with your kids then you probably should go to bed with them at a decent hour. And you might not want to get intoxicated (and then some) with them around. And that’s reality so color me purple © Little Brother.

Now contrast this hotel experience with my trip to the beach that weekend with my older female cousin who is married with two young kids. They brought the world with them to the beach: umbrella, chairs, cooler, a huge bag full of shovels, buckets, toys and more toys. All I had was a towel and a huge bag filled with my ipod, cell phone and good reading material. Do I need to point out that this cousin was not in the hotel room living it up? I didn’t think so. Anyway. When it was time to pack it up, I looked around the kids were wet, sandy and hungy, it seemed like we had made a home right there in the sand, and then I thought, “who’s going to take all this shit back to the car?” Of course I took something, but my cousin and her hubby worked like a team. Loading everything up, taking turns to take the kids to bathroom so they could change into dry clothes, keeping the kids occupied while they quietly debated where we should stop to eat. Man parenting it ain’t easy, I thought as I fell asleep in the back of the minivan. I mean I was exhausted and all I had done was laid out in the sun.

And this brings me back to what God has for me is for me. Even though my ovaries start to hurt when I see a cute little baby on the train or getting christened or enjoying a stroller ride and I get that I want a baby twinge (which naturally leads to the gotta find a husband first tug), He knows I'm not ready to be a parent right now because I'm a true believer that once I join the motherhood club some things about me are going to have to change. To me being a parent means making sacrifices. It means growing up. It means maturing. It means being unselfish and thinking of someone else’s needs. And since I’m not ready to change yet, Rum Punch ain't even thinkin bout birthin' no babies. Well I might think about it from time to time, but I'm not actively seeking to make it a reality. Nope. I haven't completely wrapped my mind around the parenting thing. Right now, I'm loving stacking my dough, just packing a bag to take a last minute trip and then crashing on a friend's futon, doing what I want when I want. Partying like a single person without kids! Totally Dude!

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!