July 2, 2012

Call Me, Maybe.

While we were in DC/NOVA for N & H's wedding there came a moment when I, somewhat abashedly admitted to the girls that I love the song Call Me Maybe. Blame it on working at Limited TOO for seven years but I have a deep love of tween music. We're all entitled to a vice right? Anyway, I digress. 

I confessed to belting it out at the top of my lungs in the shower that morning as I was getting ready for our shopping trip. We all kind of laughed, and that night when the DJ cranked up that particular tune Missy grabbed my hand and said, "Sarah! It's your jam!". She and MC dragged me onto the dance floor, cell phones  in hand, and we all danced like fools while belting out the lyrics. It was a blast, and apparently I am not the only one with a tween music fetish. 

The moment passed and so did the weekend. 

This past week I was thinking about how much fun we had. How carefree and relaxed I was (believe me no one was more shocked than I). I haven't gotten to be that girl in almost two years. The one who never hesitated to join in a good time, bust a move on the dance floor or drink three one more gin & tonic than was strictly prudent. That night, in a bright pink dress chosen for it's prettiness and not its ability to hide various bodily fluids that inevitably leak from a toddler or double as both a work and weekend outfit, I got to revisit her. 

Do you ever feel like that? Like oh you! Yes you! I remember you old friend!

We had a lot of fun together. We shopped and had coffee with good friends. We drank more gin and tonics that we probably should have. We put our hair up in a fancy up-do, and spent more than five minutes applying make-up. We danced all night, and along with the rest of the wedding party closed down the hotel bar. We didn't go to sleep until two am and slept until nine. Carefree and well rested. 

Until we were getting ready to leave the hotel, I reached into my purse and came up with one of Evie's pacis. It had traveled all this way with me. A little reminder of my daughter and all of a sudden I couldn't wait to get home, change into some toddler friendly clothes and kiss her sweet cheeks.

I had fun being the "old me" that weekend. But the new me, hair in a pony tail, yoga pants and all, has Evie and that's better than anything. 

I think from here on out I'll try and do a better job of balancing the old me and the new me. I'll drive the two and a half hours to Nashville for a girls weekend with my best friend Erin or fly to Chicago to visit Katy and Courtney like I've wanted for years. But I'll always carry this thing called motherhood with me. 

So to the old Sarah I say, "Call me, maybe." 

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