Maude goes to dinner, drinks and (gasp) ice cream with someone famous

Nearly two months ago I was giddy with anticipation because someone that I, Maude, a 40 year old woman, look up to & highly admire, wanted to have drinks with ME and my BRF!  OMG. 

To say she's kind of a big deal in Portland, and in the nationwide (and international as it turns out) mother runner community would be like saying Steve Prefontaine was just another runner.  So, I slapped the date into my calendar and there was nothing, NOTHING, that would stop me from going.

If I had to leave food & water out and barricade the three kids in for the night without a sitter, so be it.  Duct tape would help out here immensely and I've got a lot of it.  They'd be fine. 

What the hell, I mean I've already purchased a lifetime's worth of therapy sessions rather than invest in their college fund (honestly, which will they need more, really?  Therapy, absolutely.  My thoughts exactly.) So what would a couple of hours of abandonment do to them anyway?  Couldn't be much worse....

Last week the hubs (who is a freaking SAINT by the way) let me know that he had some evening work functions all week long, including Thursday night, my night, the girls night, the night that Bonnie & Clyde would meet another local celebrity. 

So I jumped on the phone and texted and called every babysitter I knew.  None, of them and I mean NONE of them were available.   I was crestfallen.  Despondent.  Really considering the duct tape plan.

I contacted friends, friends of friends, thought about an ad on Craigslist, but decided against it because there was no time for a fingerprint/background check/blood test and I'd have to take my chances that any Joe Schmoe willing to watch three children for four or more hours for $10 an hour wouldn't try to sell them on eBay or worse.....

Then my son's baseball game was moved to 7PM, at the same time I should be swilling white wine with the famous & beautiful....  Now I'd have to find a babysitter with a driver's license.  I've learned to trust fate and believe that things will always work out, and thankfully, at least this time, they did. 

I will say here publicly that I sincerely doubt that my sitter will ever step foot in my house again for a paid babysitting gig, or quite frankly for any other reason no matter how lucrative it might be.  I'm fairly certain all three kids tortured her.  There's not enough money in Brady's piggy bank (yes I am THAT mom) to compensate for that...

So the sitter was in place, Brady's ride to the game secure, and it was time to get ready for the evening. 

I own one ONE single summer dress that's appropriate, well marginally so as Bonnie & Clyde are well-featured but maybe not necessarily for a girls night out, but what the hell, like I said I own one summer dress so there you go.

Time for a head to toe assessment, when you're meeting someone you look up to/admire you want to look your best. 

Hair: full of gray, when WAS the last time I colored it?  I can't remember, that's not good.  Too late anyway, I've got 45 minutes until the sitter arrives.  Just slap on some pomade to keep those really wire-y gray hairs flat.  Hopefully.

Eyebrows: out of control, why am I such a chicken shit when it comes to waxing?  Oh yes, here's why: A Story Never Told Guess I better do what I can, which isn't much...hope my eyeshadow covers up the strays.

Teeth: Gotta stop drinking so much coffee, oh well note to self: smile without showing teeth.  Even if you have too much wine, do NOT forget.  (I totally forgot.)

Bonnie & Clyde: Damn this dress and the fact that I have no bra to wear with it and that there's no way to even pad the boob part.  B & C might think it's too cold at any given moment (yes, even if it's 90 degrees), super embarrassing...  Better grab my wrap.

Hands: Oh crap, I re-potted several plants, then made jam, which made my fingernails look like I work in an auto shop.  No time to soak.  Damn.  Maybe I should bring her some jam and then I can explain my dirty fingernails? No, better not, she might think I poisoned it or some crazy stalker thing.  Hope I can wash most of it out.  I could, and I did.  Didn't bring the jam.  Unfortunate too, I have a shit ton of it....

Feet: covered in callouses (so bad that a friend gave me a pumice stone, which told me my feet must look REALLY hideous) that I promise to remove once running season is over.  But, is it ever really over?  Meantime at least she's a runner too, she won't even blink an eye. 

But the toes....damn me and my dark purple polish.  Gave them an emergency coat which close up looks like I was drunk when I painted them, but she's tall too, won't even see them and my BRF would never say anything.  All good.

Oh shit, the mustache.....the Burt Reynolds-worthy 'stache.  Still haven't bleached it....sun hasn't helped.  Hope I'm at the right angle in the sun that it just sparkles like diamonds.....

Slapped in some earrings, grabbed my pretend Chanel purse and waited for the sitter. 

The youngest of the three, our sweet little summer visitor, picked the VERY moment BEFORE the sitter arrived to lose her shit.  I was afraid the sitter would leave.  She didn't, thank GOD.  Note to self: pay EXTRA.  (I did).

My BRF said "get the hell in the car, let's go, don't look back!"  We ran to the car and jumped in like Bo & Luke Duke.  It was like we robbed a bank or something the way we tore out of there....two wheels around the corner in a mini van and everything.

Our evening was totally amazing. I enjoyed talking to another fellow mother runner, (even a FAMOUS one!) who always makes you feel like you've known her FOREVER.  Seriously, the first time I met her at an event for her new book she totally made us all feel like we'd know her for YEARS.  I really like that kind of gal.

I'm sure she was thinking Maude is totally crazy (I tell lots of silly little stories to compensate for being super nervous so I'm sure I seemed like a total tool) but it was so much fun to hang out with her, because she's HILARIOUS.  My kind of lady.

We talked about anything and everything, the three of us mother runners, and it was such a fun night.  It was totally worth the traffic, the crazy babysitter situation, and (almost worth) the fact that my poor son almost didn't get picked up from his baseball game.....oh the shame. 

As the evening came to a close I excused myself to the ladies room as I was trying to stealthily text my husband (who was ordering "espresso" at the time) and the sitter, who already put the youngest to bed to see who could pick him up.  Then his coach called as we were on the Freemont bridge. Oh the SHAME....

The sitter did pick up the boy, as the house guest, in general, refuses sleep when the opportunity initially presents itself, so it wasn't an issue anyway.  Had to swing by the cash machine (epic fail on my part, I only put the credit card in my purse and forgot the cash card) so had to borrow the rest of the babysitting money from my BRF.  Once again, she saves the day....

I do hope that I'll have another opportunity for drinks with Sarah Bowen Shea, she's one helluva Bad Ass Mother Runner and I'm honored that she wanted to hang with me and my bud.  Maude is one happy lady.