I have always had aspirations to be famous. I may have had my day. Well more my night really.
I went out on Saturday night. It was like a mash -up of my life to date. And it culminated in me being Celebrity Mom (sorry that I can’t just write Mum, but Celebrity Mom has to be Mom. It just does.)
To start with I drank champagne with one of my beautiful long-time friends from high-school and her Mum, on the passing of her step-dad. My biggest girl and I had her first Christmas with their family, in 1996 in a beautiful coastal town up north in Western Australia. I do believe we drank champagne then too (just not my daughter).
How do you know, until you know, what it’s like to lose a parent?
After that I met two of my friends at a charity dinner, raising money for Camp Quality. People are so generous and dedicated when it comes to helping others, it warmed my heart.
How do you know, until you know, what it’s like to have a child with cancer? How do you know, until you know, what it’s like to lose them?
This is so not what I thought I would write this blog about.
In the end, after that and a few champagnes, and a few beers and smelling like Vietnamese food from the charity dinner it seemed fitting to celebrate life with my friend, who is going through a massive life change not unlike mine earlier this year, and used to party with me back in the late 90’s and well into the 2000’s. Funnily enough (or perhaps not because it was that kind of night) the band that played at my wedding was playing at one of the local pubs. We secured them for the wedding right before they got popular enough to charge more. I’m pretty sure I mentioned before once or twice that my wedding was the BEST PARTY OF ALL TIMES.
How do you know, until you know, what it’s like to get divorced?
I saw my friend’s slight panic at all the people at the pub, but reassured her that when the music started no-one would be able to ask “How are you?” (wanting an answer or not), and she would be OK. That’s from someone who knows what a massive life change is like, and how much you DON’T want to talk about it at the pub. And we danced like we were back in the late 90’s and if she looked tired I bribed her by reminding her all the times she made me party with her longer than I wanted all those years ago.
Then (because it was one of those nights) we saw a guy who used to feature at those parties. Often. In fact once he slept over at my house (not like that, just on the couch) when I was bird-sitting the same friend’s hand-reared budgerigar. I left him at home alone in the morning while I went to pick up my biggest girl from the baby-sitter and when I got home he was gone and so was the budgie. I suspect he inadvertently let it out of the door when he left (it used to free range a bit and wouldn’t go back it’s cage). The next time I saw him he vehemently denied anything to do with the disappearance of the bird. Anyway, he was at the pub on Saturday, listening to the band from my wedding. My friend and I both saw him simultaneously and felt a bit like the life mash-up was getting a bit much.
Then I kept getting all these text messages. From the 18 year olds. At the other pub. Where the 18 year olds were.
So we went there.
And this is perhaps the part where I realised my potential. In my faux silk jumpsuit (read onesie) and blue heels, big earrings and dark red lipstick. We didn’t get stopped for ID. I tried not to feel insulted. But as we walked in, in my peripheral vision I could sense the looks and then I caught a vaguely familiar 18 year old mouthing “that’s April’s Mom!”. And I weaved my way through the dance floor and my biggest girl called out “MoooooooooooM!!” and did a happy dance, and I got hugs and high fives all round and danced like I was 18, she took selfies with me (they looked really hot at the time!) and then my friend and I ran away to Macca’s and scammed a lift through the drive-through and got dropped home.
The next day I re-told the Celebrity Mom moment many times, and my biggest girl said that I could re-live that every weekend if I went out with her. Which was sweet of her to say. But that I think reeks of Desperate Mom or maybe Trashbag Mom or even Slut Mom. I’m not going there.
Celebrity is so my Mom of choice this week.
I am glad the paparazzi weren’t around Sunday morning though. They would have had a field day. “Celebrity Mom not so flash at 8am”, “Celebrity Mom still wearing leopard print robe at 11.40am”. “Celebrity Mom thinks she’s way more funny than she really is”. Just to name a few.