I’m A Lit Mom!

Our neighborhood is a party whenever it gets the slightest bit warm. As I type this, there are bonfires in peoples driveways, neighbors walking around and an occasional 4-wheeler passes by. Between all of my friends/neighbors, we have a million children together (not in a creepy, cult-compound kind of way where everyone is screwing everyone. I’m just saying all of our kids add up to a huge number. God HM, stop talking!).

The festivities started around 7 as we walked to our friend’s backyard for a fire and smores. The backyard resembled a scene from Lord of the Flys with 10 boys running around like they were bat-shit crazy. One had his shirt on inside out and backwards (Kriss Kross will make you jump jump!), another wasn’t even wearing a shirt and another one had head to toe camo, in various patterns on.

Before walking over, my youngest-C, came running in the screen door. He had been playing outside all day long.

“Kyle hit me in the head,” I heard him say. This immediately got my attention as I looked up from the 8th load of laundry I was folding for the day.

“JESUS!” I belted out as a knee-jerk reaction. My 8 year old baby had an egg protruding from his head. Because of my reaction, his bubbly attitude about what had happened, quickly turned dark. He ran to the restroom and began to cry.

“I can’t play soccer anymore!” He wailed. “I have a concussion!”

I wasn’t necessarily arguing with this fact as he had a HUGE  egg on his head. This egg was bigger than either child had ever produced.

Because I’m Italian and will not pay for services that can easily be rendered by neighbors for free, I immediately called my friend/neighbor- J, who is a heart nurse and asked her to come over and evaluate my son’s potential concussion.

Having had a son of the same age who just had a concussion a few weeks ago, she said it was a good sign that his was protruding from his head rather than internally. She said to give him ibuprofen and to check on him every few hours tonight.

“Like wake him up?” I asked.

“No, just check on him.” She said vaguely.

Like to make sure he’s still alive is probably what she was getting at, that made me secretly want to keep him awake all night.

Later on……

Though flash light tag was the activity du choix for the Lord of the Flys clan, all the little kids, including my concussed child, went in around 8. My oldest-P however, was staying out to play flashlight tag because conveniently, a girl across the street was having a HUGE slumber party and they would be also partaking in the festivities. Girls against boys.

Around 9 I text P to ask where he was. After 20 minutes of no response, I got in my car to go look for him. I’m sure he was fine but didn’t need a psycho kidnapping him. As I turned the corner of the next street, I saw the outline of several kids. It was my son and 5 girls. Hmmmm……this just got interesting.

“Hiiiii!!!” My tween neighbor exclaimed as she ran over and gave me a hug. 4 girls and my son followed in her wake.

“Hi mom,” my son said in monotone. To my surprise, he walked up and gave me a hug….in front of the girls! What just happened? He probably figured if the one girl gave me a hug, it was cool for him too.

“P, introduce me to your friends,” I demanded.

As he announced their names, I smiled and shook their hands. Then I shook the hand of the girl he likes. It took EVERYTHING inside to contain my glee. I was silently seizuring on the inside and having a moment. Then my elation rose to a new level when one of the tween girls announced the following:

“P, your mom is the most lit mom on Earth!”

Esqueeze me? Baking powder. Were you talking to me? What did you just say? Once I realized the prop I was being given, I totally played it cool….in my head.

“Ah thank you! Yeah, I am pretty swell!” Nervous giggles. “Just kidding, yeah, I’m toooo-tally lit!” I said while bending my right knee like you see in those cheesy romance movies when a girl kisses a boy. Once I did this I knew it was time to cease all operations, get back in my car and drive away.

I was too flattered after all of this. It had been a long time since I had received such praise. I’m a lit mom! Nay, I’m the most lit mom in the world. Where the fuck is my trophy?

This calls for a celebration!

I drove 1 mile to our local Speedway (for anyone outside of the U.S. or the Midwest, this is a large gas station chain). I grabbed a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon  (for me only, not the tweeners) and not 1 but 2 tubs of Haagen Daz, peanut butter/chocolate. One for me and one for the girls!

I drove back and found the clan again. I quickly distributed the ice cream in which it was announced:

“P, your mom is so nice!”

No, I’m not nice…..I’m lit!