Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Rabid Bitches

The Goonies, Kids Incorporated, Mickey Mouse Club, Ferris Buhler, whatever you want to call them, it was a bunch of kids getting together to hang out. Sometimes brilliant careers were launched: Britany, Justin, dude whose step mom is Barbara Streisand. Sometimes people faded into obscurity. Since they’re obscure and faded, I have no examples for you. Bottom line was when you watched them on screen they clicked and had a good time. Much like my best girlfriends J and E. E and I have been BFF’s since kindergarten and since we’re in our 30’s now we’ve noted occasionally that we’ve been friends longer than many marriages these days. J and I met at E’s wedding as we were bridesmaids together. We call ourselves the Butt Crack Bitches.
While the name really is not above board and sounds like some chick biker gang, we dubbed ourselves, along with two other girls, this wonderful moniker one cool fall morning while waiting for our ride to wine country. It was the butt crack of dawn and we were tired and without caffeine since our ride had the Starbucks hookup. Because of this we were very bitchy. Hence the name. Once we started having kids, we shortened it to BCB. And speaking of kids, we are all still butt crack bitches, but for an entirely different reason. Once content to get up at 5 AM to ride for 6 hours to Eastern Washington and drink wine all day pretending to know what tannins are and the difference between oak and steel aged chardonnay, we now rise at 5 AM for feedings, diaper changes, and elementary school.
Tonight was BCB dinner. Once a month we get together for dinner to catch up, drink wine, eat a shit load of food guaranteed to make you fat, celebrate our successes since no one else cares we got a cashmere sweater for $60,  and bitch about our significant others. Tonight was different. J told us that she is preggo with rug rat #2. E is already three months into her incubation of drape ape #2 as well. I am ecstatic for both of them. They are fabulous mom’s already. Plus now I’ll have two babies to snuggle and then give back.
I am melancholy however. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner, or the semi food coma I’ve put myself into from too much spaghetti and dessert. Or maybe I have a small case of the green eyed monster. I’m done having babies. I enjoyed being pregnant and didn’t have any issues, but my kids are finally independent enough that I don’t have to do everything for them. While that sounds selfish, it’s not meant to be. I love that they can make toast for themselves while I’m taking a dump. It saves time. Any way. I called FFB who is travelling – again – and we chatted for a bit after they left. He was winding dinner down so I gave him the Sports Center version that my friends are breeding and its cramping my style.
But it makes me a little jealous, and here is why. I always thought I’d have at least one friend to experience pregnancy with, and I didn't. It something that women bond over – child rearing, labor, money, and sex. It’s the four corners of conversation. Walk into a room full of women and I can guarantee that at least one topic is related to ONE of those things. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Anyway, it made me a little sad that I’m not going to have my own little baby #3 at the same time as my friends so we can all be miserable together. I imagined us three sitting together while our three kids who were born around the same time experienced the same things together: puberty, driver’s licenses, prom, graduation, weddings, and babies. And, I have to admit, for a split second, I honestly thought about doing it again, just so I could be part of that. The way they smell, all of the “firsts”, the snuggling, and (my favorite) when they fall asleep on you. But I can’t for one and immediately came to my senses for two.
I love my kids. I love FFB’s kids. I love my BFF’s kids. But there is something to be said for a Sunday afternoon where you can sit on the couch in your sweats and watch football while your kids fend for themselves because they are old enough to. Granted the kitchen usually looks like a pack of rabid dogs went through it.

The Butt Crack Bitches
E, J and Me


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