Friday, August 21, 2009

Blame it on my youth

Call me a 15-year-old girl again, but one of my favourite things to do when it's a not-so-nice day outside is to set a scene like this:
Sit cross-legged on my comfy faux-suede couch, wearing my weekend jeans (old, faded, holes in the knees), a comfy T-Shirt, and no socks. To my left is the portable phone, the baby monitor (a subtle clue of my adult responsibility that lies dormant down the hall), and a granola bar. To my right: my bottle of Malibu pink nail polish, a Kleenex, and our Woolrich blanket that was made just for cool fall days.
I sip a big mug of organic chai tea (a caffeine boost once an afterthought, but today a desperate survival tactic after a long night with the little lady). I paint my toenails, just taking my eyes of the T.V. screen long enough to get the little piggies painted without missing too much of the action. Because on the silver screen is a cheesy, classic high school teen comedy. The kind centered around graduation, seniors, a final party, resolutions and coming-of-age realizations. Today's is Dazed and Confused. But this scene can easily be set up with an afternoon program of Sixteen Candles, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Can't Hardly Wait or American Pie.
I can omit my mommyhood for the length of the feature film or the end of naptime (whichever comes first!). It doesn't matter that the weather outside makes the day a write-off for a hike. I put my to-do list away where I can't see it. And I pretend that I am a teenager again, putting myself in the scene, wondering what I would wear to the party, who's house we'd get ready at, where our booze would be coming from, and who's house we'd sleepover at afterwards. Because these were the issues I faced come Friday afternoon in high school. Not who would be going to take our boxes to the dump, not what I'd make for dinner because the Lardners are coming over, not what I was going to do to entertain my teething baby while we wait for her Daddy to call it a day at work. Just who I'd be with, what I'd wear, and what poison we'd sip excitedly in the days where a high-fructose liquor (like Peach Schnapps!) would not render a killer hangover.
Ah, how times have changed.
So now my mango avocado chutney is prepared, my chickpea salad is chilling, my sweet potato fried are chopped and the chicken is marinating. The baby is sound asleep and I am granted a date with my DVD player.

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