Sunday, April 22, 2007

Who's Afraid of Virginia...

Smarter people than I have commented on the massacre at Virginia, and while I can't change mad men, I can fight against my own personal demons.

One of them? I'm not a great traveler. Which is why, when one of my best friends called me up last minute to ask, "Want to come down to the Hilton in Anaheim and spend the night?" I sucked in my breath and said, "Absolutely."

Rex took the kids and I arrived at 8PM last night - giddy with excitement as I passed all the tourists in their Mickey Mouse hats, fireworks from nearby Disneyland about to light the sky.

Any insecurities I had about traveling alone melted away at fresh smell of flowers in the lobby, the beautiful fountain, the hustle and bustle of the families, business people and couples on honeymoons.

I had a key waiting for me at the front desk with the words on the envelope: "To Grand Dame Mama P, From Lady in Waiting, Heather."

I giddly rode the elevator up, Our Lady of Thrifting Bag in hand (note to self: buy some pink luggage!) and entered a room. All beds made. Cleaner than a hospital floor.

Heather was still at her convention, so I had the room to myself. MYSELF. Think Tom Cruise dancing in his underware in Risky Business.

I threw off my clothes, ordered a 30.00 quesadilla (which was delivered on a rolling tray with a rose - replete with metal clanking containers) and hot apple pie with icecream. I felt like I'd just won a perfect 10 on Dancing With the Stars - and like a true friend, I called Mrs. V (sick with strep) to brag about my good fortune. (She probably wanted to kick my ass, but she was very encouraging - God love her. She even let me clang the metal plates for sound effects.)

I climbed in bed and ate like Kirstie Alley at a Weight Watchers all you can eat points buffet. I flipped through stupid tv, making mental notes to swim off my decadence first thing in the morning. Somewhere between a chubby opera singer and an infomercial I woke up - 10 blissful hours later. And my plans to move my butt at the indoor pool? I told them to fuck off and bought an overpriced breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

I swear - when I make big money someday, I'm going to sponsor moms in some way... to give them a break. To give them time to recharge and be women again - not just caretakers. It has lifted my spirits beyond measure, and every woman deserves it.

Thank you, Heather.

5 comments:

hamiam said...

Ohhhhhhhhhhh.........I want some of that - m'kay???

Good for you.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to convince Charlie Brown to splurge with (or rather, on, since it falls near my b'day) me and go to a black tie event my school is having next month in Denver. I'm thinking we could do the hotel thing and have Nana and Papa come up and care for the kiddies overnight....

I mean, isn't it the thing dreams are made of - booze, glitz, political schmoozers, a night at the capitol, and TIME AWAY!

meno said...

A good wallow in a hotel room can do wonders for your mental health. I'm glad you went.

Maggie said...

Mama P, you're probably going to laugh at me but I'm crying reading your post. I'm so happy for you. You deserve this. And I'm thinking about how much I need the same. To be just a woman again...

Pam said...

Ahhhhhh! All of us wives and mothers need just that from time to time. Feeling indulged, fed and rested all in a room we didn't have to clean.
Yay, Mama P!

Mama P said...

Ham, go for it!

Meno - I'm illiterate enough about the word "wallow" and lazy enough to not look it up, but I always thought that meant to indulge your sorrows. There was no sorrow that eve - pure indulgence.

Maggie, you broke my heart with that. Seriously. I would never laugh at you. I might sponsor you to a hotel one day, but laugh? No.

Pam, as usual, you so get it.