girl's night

I had a spontaneous, no reason party on Saturday night. I needed to have something on my blank, gray calendar. I needed to remember, exactly, why I live in this icy little valley. I needed to be with my friends without the distraction of our kiddos and their complex, wild, volatile, beautiful friendships. I wanted to sit on my sofa with a good glass of wine and a room full of good conversations.

Apparently we all did.

The mass email invites always make me giggle. They are safe. They require no feedback, no RSVP, and welcome a whole range of responses. They also keep things kind of light and vague. So at 6:15 when my kitchen was still empty, I started to wonder. Maybe there would just be a few of us. Maybe I shouldn't have made so much soup. Maybe I'm kind of a dork to think that anyone was really coming. My inner ten year old waiting for her party to start who begins to fill with self-doubt.

But then the door opened. And next thing I knew, my little house was packed with gorgeous women, the dining room table full of beautiful food, and the fridge full of beer. I finally got myself to that spot on my sofa and found myself in a conversation full of meaning. What it means to be a mom. A daughter. What we lied about to our mothers. What we really regret. What our girls may do to us and how we'll attempt to deal. What we need. What our husbands need. What our kids need. How to meet all the needs.

I don't have time to not have meaning in my life. I don't have time for meaningless conversation. Don't have time for shallow friendships. Don't have time to not just break it down immediately. Maybe that makes me too intense. But whatever. People who don't want to go there don't have to come to my party.

As I busted Madonna and lit candles to make my house smell good, I had that giddy feeling I used to get before going to school dances. I love school dances. Like I lived for them. I love big groups of goofy girls bustin' it in a circle. I love when the slow song would come on and I'd wonder if someone would ask me to dance. I can still here those mellow, sultry tunes. Depeche Mode. Peter Cetera. L.L. Cool J.

It's a question of not letting what we built up crumble to dust...I am a man who will fight for your honor...When I'm alone in the room, sometimes I stare at the wall....

The feminist in me wonders what songs my kids will be dancing too. God knows if, "A Question of Lust" was allowed at my school dances they'll be dancing to something super dirty, super scandalous. What path will we take in dealing with this all? I shudder just thinking about it. Take in a long, slow breath.

One thing I know. I will have my girlfriends to consult. And they'll be going through the same thing. Hell, our daughters will probably be sneaking out together while we're sipping wine in my living room...

So much to look forward to.