I’m a city girl at heart. If I could afford to live downtown in a renovated warehouse loft, I would. Okay, so living someplace like that with Bill and three kids would be…not that great, but I’m trying to make a point here.

I prefer funky and hip and urban living conditions. I want to be in the center of a bustling city. I want to take my kickass freight elevator down, cross the street and go into a super-trendy, super-fabulous bar where I and my cohorts will sip our Cosmos and apple martinis and discuss our lives and my brand new Stuart Weitzman peep-toe wedges.

I want Sex and the City, and instead, I’ve got Leave it to Beaver. Most of the time that irks me a little. Don’t get me wrong — this is way more appropriate living for a 33 (almost 34 — there are only 61 shopping days left, people!!) year old mother of three. But in my heart of hearts, I know I am entirely too funky-fresh to be living la vida Stepford. And also? I really want those Weitzmans, and there is just nowhere I could wear them in Stepford.

Then there are days like today. Today was the annual “The pool is open. So come on and swim! Oh, and bring food!” Memorial Day bash. This is *always a fun-filled event for a few reasons, not least of which is some of the crazy mofos who live here the diversity of our neighborhood. But let me stop getting ahead of myself here. (Man, am I bad about that. Someone should stop me…oh. Wait. It’s my blog. I got it like that. Hee.)

As an aside — Zoe came along. I love Zoe. I might have mentioned this before, but really, that kid is just frelling awesome. My mother said Zoe reminds her of me. My mother doesn’t really like Zoe that much, but I love her. Go figure. :grin:

Anyway, we head down to the pool. Oh, sweet, sweet joy — the smell of chlorine and freshly mown grass makes my heart sing an aria about the joy of summertime and swimming pools and barbecues and rollerskates and KoolAid and everything else summertime. O, Summer, how I love thee! (About two months from now, I’ll be bitching about the heat and the humidity and the damn kids *still being home all day. But let me have my moment for now, wouldja?)

I’m nearly giddy with the anticipation of fellowship with my neighbors, many of whom are actual adults. GROWN UP PEOPLE! People who know that picking your swimsuit out of your butt isn’t appropriate. People who understand that threatening to knock the snot out of your kid is something you do in private, not out where everyone can see, for God’s sake. Well, most of the adult-type people know this.

Then we have the grownups who maybe didn’t get the memo about appropriate social interactions in a public place. Like the chick who was about 6,459 months pregnant and picking her suit out of her ass every 3 seconds. Or the guy who threatened to knock his kid’s teeth out if the kid did. not. stop. tormenting. his. baby. sister!RIGHT!NOW! We can’t even talk about the two sisters who nearly got into a fistfight over a place in the food line. (No, really, we can’t. They might read this, come find me and kick my ass.)

I’m not judging them, by the way. I felt the preggo’s pain on the whole wedgie situation. I really did. And God knows I’ve told my kids more than once that they’re damn lucky they’re not picking their teeth up off the floor because of their smartass mouths. And while Sarah and I are too grown up now to fistfight, we’ve been known to shove a little in our day. BUT I do know that these are not things one should do in public and so I refrain…or haul myself to a bathroom to pick the wedgie and/or to chew out whichever kid is acting a damn fool. (I wouldn’t hit Sarah now, unless she gets those Weitzmans. Then I’d hit her and take her shoes.)

Wow. I’m so not getting to the point, am I? At any rate, we go. The kids swim. I broil. My mom also broils but pretends she enjoys being roasted like a pig on a spit. She was at least able to wear a swimsuit so she could get in and cool off a little. Sadly, I haven’t found any nursing pads suitable for use in a pool. Curse you, leaking boobs! :fistshake: Still not getting to the point, am I? :grin:

As I sit there waiting to spontaneously combust (and hoping to God no one takes pictures when I do because I haven’t had a pedicure in ages, and we all know that victims of spontaneous human combustion are nothing but ashes and feet when it’s over), I take a look around and realize I’m glad to be there.

I may take potshots about how I’ll never be a Stepford, but really? I am. I live here, and that’s all it takes to make someone a part of the fun and gossip and really good food and extra parental eyes and every other benefit that comes with living here.

So, I had a great time today. I talked to grownups, and yet again, I managed not to say anything too stupid. (I’m on a roll lately…at least in public, face-to-face situations.) The kids are tuckered out from sun and swimming, including Tricia. Okay, so she didn’t really have any sun or swimming, but she did get out and about to see new faces and be cooed over by strangers. Bill got to be manly with other manly men while they grilled animal carcasses (fine, it was just hamburgers and hot dogs, but they were proud of themselves). My mom got to show off her mad fruit-pizza-making skillz.

Best of all, not one broad was wearing my Weitzmans. Today was a good day in Stepford.