I love a good breakfast, especially if it includes mimosas and/or Bloody Marys. There's nothing not to love about a good old eye-opener, right?
So when I got the invite to attend a pancake brunch for my kindergartner, proceeds to benefit the PTO, I was thrilled. Pancakes? I love pancakes. I was semi-displeased to note that while "coffee" was listed on the beverages included in my meal, there was nothing about mimosas.
Fine, I figured. They're probably just not ADVERTISING it. Happily, I signed us up for the pancake breakfast, assuming that it'd be a cash bar for cocktails.
No such luck.
Hand-in-hand with my 3-year-old daughter and 5-year old son, my husband and I marched into the school, where my son happily informed me that he'd be seeing his classmates. "Awesome," I replied, as we greeted the PTO lady at the entrance. I was in the middle of asking her where the open bar was when my children took off for the cafeteria, in search of pancakes.
When we entered the lunchroom, I was overcome with the sheer volume of the kids. THIS is why I needed an "eye-opener." I can handle -- happily so -- my own children, but throngs of screaming children clamoring for pancakes always leaves me a bit ... anxious. It's a good damn thing I never became a teacher. I'd have had to take up some seriously bad habits to make it through each day.
I squinted around, looking for the bar as my children begged for pancakes. The pancake line, approximately two miles long, was filled with wholesome-looking families and children. Instantly, I was glad that I'd worn something to cover up my tattoos.
I begged off the line, leaving my soon-to-be ex-husband waiting for pancakes as I went off in search of something to drink. I found both orange juice and water, but no champagne. My kids, who happen to find lines as unappealing as I do, stood by me as I looked this way and that, seeing if I could see where they kept the good stuff.
"Whatcha doing, Mama?" my daughter asked.
"Looking for champagne, Baby Girl," I replied.
"What's shampane?" she asked innocently.
"Oh, it's Mama's Little Helper," I returned, giving her the truth.
And while I came across a sign that said, "Just because you can say it doesn't mean you SHOULD," there was no champagne to be found. Apparently, school functions = no drinking allowed. Goes to show you never can tell.
We noshed on pancakes as I tried my damnedest to appear wholesome in front of the other parents, my children each eating their weight in delicious breakfast foods.
And while there was no cash bar, no champagne, and not even a hint of moonshine, walking out of there, hand in hand with my Littles made me feel almost ... wholesome.
Until they started screaming, that is. Then I just wanted a nap. And a whole bottle of champagne.