Vegas

A few weeks ago I went to Vegas with my best friends. A bunch of married ladies, three of us mothers. People who are busy, who are tired, who spend weekends in yoga pants under piles of laundry or just life. Piles of life.

And for a long weekend I ran away and remembered who I am without all of the other stuff. Without having to consider nap time or early morning wakeups. Without having to consider another person’s hunger or comfort. I wore big shoes and short dresses.

I stayed out by the pool all afternoon. I ate rich, amazing, adventurous foods and started dinner past my children’s bedtimes. I spent too much time on my hair and makeup. I crawled over VIP sections to sit on the back of a couch with two of my best friends spitting distance from Calvin Harris in the DJ Booth like we were 23 and had nowhere to be.

And it was just so fun and so freeing. And I’ve been trying to decide what I wanted to say about this trip and I think I’ve figured out two things.

First, I feel that there is an electricity in the air sometimes, an aura if you will, that tut tuts at women, mothers, wives, who go off on extravagant get-aways without their partners/children/blahblah. There is an “aww womp womp” thing that exists towards the left behind party. There is a “well, where do they get to go then?” like I must have to pay this freedom back in some way… right? Nothing is free.

But… that’s stupid. Partners who keep score are not good partners. Partners who aren’t supportive of escapes into the night are not good partners.

The second thing I’ve been thinking about is: Investment. I’m old(er) and tired(er) and the time I have is precious. It is important to choose, actively choose, how I want to spend that time. We hadn’t all gone somewhere together since 2009. Since before any of us got married. It’s important to invest in the stories of our friendships. It’s important to invest in the stories that we will retell for years to come.

It’s important to invest in who we are when no one is looking, in the late night dancing, and the dress up and the pool time, and the naps in the middle of the day like who are we? People without responsibilities?

It’s important to be that hot girl for a second, because the work of life is always there. It’s always there yelling at you and pulling you back into deadlines and chores and wiping snotty noses and alarm clocks and workouts. It’s important to plug your ears every once in a while, buy a 50 dollar dress that is made from some kind of stretchy terry cloth, and run out into the night.

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