|Austin - July 6, 2013|
In 2010 seven friends and I rented a house in Ocean City, Maryland, stocked the fridge with beer, wine, liquor, and mixers, and lived off of pizza, boardwalk fries, and sub sandwiches for a week. That Fourth of July weekend, we imbibed, debauched, and were gluttonous. We, eight "adults", had no responsibilities, other than finding out the cover charges for area bars and when we had to arrive in order to beat them. We stayed out too late, we drank too much, we puked, we rallied, and we slept in as we pleased. It was glorious!
July 4, 2013 was a far cry from those care free days when our biggest worry was if rum tasted as good with Sprite as it did with Coke and what was the lowest SPF we could get away with, without burning.
I was up with Austin at 6:30 am, digging through his drawers for something Patriotic. I knew I would have to find several somethings since we go through a few outfits a day and I would need back ups. Daddy joined the ranks a little after 7 am and I hit the garage for a quick workout before BBQs commenced. (The Elizabeth of 2010 might have thought about working out, but the mere idea would have been exercise enough for that day).
Our first stop was a 3rd Birthday party for a family friend - low key - but with the oppressive heat we didn't stay long since we were having company at our house later in the day.
Fast forward to our party, Austin and his friend, Logan, spent about 15 minutes in a baby pool in the yard. The filling of the pool took longer than its actual use but at least it kept the boys cool and entertained while Dad fired up the grill. Sun dresses of the past, were traded in for gym shorts and an old tee shirt in case we experienced an explosive poop or rogue spit up. Everyone was doused in SPF 50.
Between chasing around newly mobile babies, spoon feeding pureed vegetables to Austin and supplying Logan with enough Gerber Puffs and Goldfish, the adults were able to, at least, take a sip or two of wine and beer between activities. All was going smoothly until the heat of the day hit one of our little soldiers and all of Logan's Goldfish were regurgitated on the floor.
If this had happened at our beach house, the cuteness factor would have been non-existent and the puker would have been left to fend for himself. But, we, new mommies jumped into action grabbing carpet cleaner, wipes, paper towels, and Frebreeze. If I had glanced out the window during the raucous, I might have seen 2010 Elizabeth, peeking in with a vodka cranberry in her hand, sun burnt from a day a the beach, laughing at the unfolding chaos, but as it was - I didn't have time. By time the puke had been cleared, Austin was crawling away into another room and Logan was getting hugs and kisses from his mommy, being told everything was okay.