I went down the shore this weekend and actually went out. It was stormy all day Saturday, so GF Carlo took JD out on a bunch of errands and had boy-time. I ended up falling asleep for three hours in Carlo’s bed that feels like a marshmallow. The sound of the ocean, the rain and the thunder was the perfect lullaby. It was one of those moments where I laid down to read then slipped into a working single mom coma, because I knew JD was being looked after. I woke up feeling rejuvenated and JD was playing with new blocks, courtesy of Uncle Carlo. My mom was marinating porter house steaks and making salad. (Haha, it’s nice to have help. I am lucky and thankful.) The clouds parted some, so I treated my family to ice cream at Beach Plum and then knowing I was going out later, took JD on a mommy-and-me date to the mini golf place up the street on the boardwalk. The sky was pink and bursting with light.
When we got back to the condo I gave JD his shower and read to him. He fell asleep in Carlo’s bed and I got ready, while Carlo told me to hurry up and asked me why I was taking so long (ah, days of my youth flooded my brain). The cab arrived and we headed to Porta in Asbury Park with two other friends. My girlfriends from NYC were in the area so we met them there too. Everything after that is admittedly a bluuuuuur (and I’m still feeling it today). The drinks and shots flowed like water (no one was driving). We rotated from the outside patio bar where we sat on damp picnic benches, talking about our glory days in Europe, including adventures in hostels, raves with hot Germans and nearly missing our flight home from France on a plane packed with models. Then we explored the Atlantic City press trip we all went on in which Claire posed as a soon-to-be bride (yes, fake diamond was worn) and was also mistaken as a prostitute (sounds worse than it was). Then there was the night I met JD’s dad and every other memory we all shared that started with the sentence: Remember that time … in short it was awesome.
And Carlo was definitely scandalized by his lil sis. He kept leaving and returning. He couldn’t handle the story of when I asked a hot French man to kiss me in a Paris park so my friend could capture the moment. To purely capture the moment. Really. I don’t remember his name. In my mind it is Jacques. There was also the American bartender working at the hostel’s bar in Paris … But this is why I love going out with my girls. I don’t have to talk about red-shirting, issue a timeout, or negotiate a bite.
There were two dance spaces that we took full advantage of. One space was Jersey strong club music and fist-pumpers everywhere. “How long is it going to take you to dance on that speaker, Christine?” Lo asked. God, I was tempted. Refrained. It smelled like cologne and beer everywhere. I felt free and like I was 22. I had on a tube top and pink lipstick. Some random girl told me she wanted my “mermaid hair.” The other room usually plays 80s dance party music, but on Saturday it was rap—which was even better.
There’s something about dancing with your girlfriends that changes the universe for a moment. Everything is good. There are no bills, no work, no child that is going to inevitably wake you up at 6 AM, no absent dad, no BS. There is just music and best friends sharing old memories and making new ones—and the feeling that this moment will never, ever, ever end. Until you eat pizza at 4 AM. And your child rises with the sun at 6 AM. And yes, folks, I made it to the beach with my kiddo. GF Carlo did not, however—he was in “recovery mode.”
Do you get out with your girls sans kids? Share / DO IT!!
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