Do you have any idea how difficult it is to put 7 shirts into a gift basket/box so they are all visible?  The result?  You can’t read any of them.  The shirt under the tag?  Drinking for Two, of course.   

In the drama of getting the baskets together for the Hollywood stars, I thought I was alone when I walked into the CFFG’s office. I heard the sound of Rush on the radio in the back room and walked around the corner to see a white-haired gentleman washing chocolate fountains in the industrial-sized sinks.

K: Hello. You must be Sam, Melissa’s dad.
S: Well, HELLO there.
K: So nice to meet you.

We chit-chatted for a while. And then, it came, as I can only describe it, out of the blue.

S: Aren’t you a pretty thing?
K: Why…..thank you?

I felt the sudden urge to lean up and touch my hair. My hair that had been washed every other day for years, but probably hadn’t seen a brush since the late ’80s. I refrained.

S: You married?

Maybe I should have mentioned that Sam turned 80 this year. Maybe that information doesn’t matter. Who knows? I’ll just throw it out there for good measure.

K: As a matter of fact, I am. And I have two small boys.
S: Hm. Are you happily married?
K: (laughing) As a matter of fact, I am VERY happily married.
S: I was just wondering if you were interested in upgrading. But if you are happily married, then I guess that’s good for you.
K: It is.
S: How old are you?
K: Well, I’m (mumbling).
S: You are too old for me. But only by a year. I can give you…what is that thing the pope gives…compensation?
K: (thinking, “If only the pope was giving compensation”) Dispensation?
S: Dispensation. That’s right.
K: But I heard you only like redheads.
S: Eh. I can give you a dispensation for that too.

Well, alrighty then.

I need you to just not ask my why I am doing buttons related to brides.  All I can say is that Kimberle and The Babysitter will be happy.  My husband?  Not so much.  And while I was making this one, The Boy stole my glue stick and dug all the glue out.  But isn’t it the cutest thing ever? 

While I made this one, The Baby decided to wash his hands in the toilet.  There was extensive discussion regarding what was actually in the bowl when he started his little bathing, but his brother swears he FLUSHED the poop before his brother went on in.  Then these came in the mail.  Can you even imagine placing your martini glass on this cute little napkin?  When I went outside to pick up these boxes, The Baby decided to walk down the stairs.  Except he can’t walk.  And certainly not down stairs.  When he hit the landing, he was pissed.  Thank God for carpet.  The Boy?  Downloading Go, Diego, Go videos from YouTube on my phone and sending them to all the people on my contact list.  That and he rearranged all the icons on the front page.  I would change them back but I have no idea how to do it.  He tried to explain it to me but it was too complicated. 

When these arrived, Michael from my new wireless merchant service place was trying to give me excellent customer service by visiting at my place of employment.  Which is my living room.  It used to just be the basement, but I am now trickling up the stairs.  As Michael discussed discount rates and fees, The Baby began to unload Michael’s briefcase.  He called him “Dad” and stole his pen.  The Boy began jumping from the crates of shirts onto the top of the back of my chair.  every once in a while he missed.  And landed on my head.  The Boy then began to push The Baby around in the Little Tikes car at about 40 miles per hour.  It was only a matter of time before the big wipeout occurred and everyone was crying.  Michael?  Still trying to explain the process.  Me?  Offering Michael hard alcohol.  He graciously refused.    I decided not to hold it against him.

And aren’t these the cutest little hostess gift?  I’m hoping I can keep them away from The Boy.  And his father.  Those boys are FA-reaks when it comes to post it notes.

Oh, every single one of you that said, “I would have a party if I lived closer”–your ass is getting an email about hosting a party.  I just stick the party in a box and send it to your house.  Even to Alabama.  Which has surprisingly enough, made MANY queries about throwing parties.  You southern girls.  You know what’s going on.  Have a party now before I end up on Oprah and then you have to get on my list.  Now wouldn’t THAT suck?  Don’t you want to be the person who had the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party BEFORE the rest of the cool kids catch on.

OK, I don’t actually put the party in a box.  I put the shirts in the box and YOU have to make the party.  You can do it.  I have faith in you.  

And now all those short sleeve shirts and tank tops available at Baby Brewing?  Mommy Needs a Cocktail?  Mommy Needs a Beer?  Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine?  And all those shirts only available at the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  Available in 2XL.  Still that clingy style, but now with more room.  Roomier styles coming soon.

This guy is annoyed because the XL Pink Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirt seems too small.  I am in the middle of my elaborate explanation of how I have designed a new tee because I want to have shirts for EVERYONE.  This guy is listening intently.  He’s holding up an XL.  He’s putting it down.  He’s holding it back up.  He puts it down. 

“I’ll take it.”

K:  Look, we have a very liberal return policy.  If it doesn’t fit her, just email me.

“Oh, it’s not for a “she.”

Well…..alrightly then.

Props to my friend Wendy who helped me sell everything not tied down today.  We’ll be living through day 2 tomorrow (me and The Cake Lady) at the DC International Wine and Food Festival.   Trish found us today. 

Tonight The Cake Lady and I were sitting on the couch, talking about, well, I can’t say it on the internet because I really don’t need those kinds of hits.  She paused for a moment.

CL:  Isn’t it SO nice that your husband is upstairs watching our boys?

What I love most about The Cake Lady?  Other than the fact that she was helping me put ribbon on the 9 million shirts I am taking to the DC International Wine and Food Festival this weekend?  Her naivete. 

K:  He’s not watching those kids.
CL:  But he is up there in that room with them.
K:  And the room is only 10 X 10.  Yet still, shockingly, he has no clue what is going on.
CL:  You are joking.  What is he doing up there?
K:  He has his earplugs in and he is listening to some ridiculousness that he purchased online.  Like Animal Farm. 

As a side note, I asked if he remembered that Animal Farm is like an 80 page book so that it was basically like buying an episode of Dora the Whora, but he said he didn’t realize that until AFTER he listened to all 27 minutes of it.

CL:  He’s listening to a book?
K:  And has NO idea what is going on.
CL:  In that small room?
K:  With the door closed.

Not three minutes later, we heard The Husband bounding down the stairs.

D:  Did you people leave in a nudist colony in California?
CL:  Oh, no.  Is he naked again?
D:  They both don’t have any pants on.  They were sitting on the end of the bed so all I could see was from the waist up.  Apparently they took their pants off.
K:  What did I tell you? 

The best part. They probably took their pants off 45 minutes before. For what reason? No one knows. Who wants to even go there?

(oh, and if you are still waiting for all your free stuff I’m supposed to send you from past contests (HI, MELISSA!!), I’m going to send out all that stuff on Friday. You kids are so nice for being so patient!)

I remember getting into the limo with The Husband after our wedding (okay, lifting The Husband’s legs into the limo) and thinking, “This was the BEST wedding I have EVER BEEN TO.”

Saturday night’s Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  It was so awesome, it just wasn’t right.  It was almost as fun as my wedding.

I showed up late because I was trying to find my car keys to give to The Husband.  I drove up the hill to the most gorgeous house with the most gorgeous view.  (I also saw a deer try to jump a fence and not clear the barbed wire, only to bounce back on the road.  That was odd).  We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.  We are in Petroville.

I stepped into a Mommy Needs a Cocktail heaven.  MNAC was everywhere.  Kimberly is a mommy who needs a cocktail. And who knows how to create a pink Wonderland.
MNAC was on a cake, for heaven’s sake (which should now be mandatory for all MNAC parties–it was so cool).  I threw my crap on the table (sorry, Pache) and then Melissa, of Capitol Chocolate Fountain/Post Office fame arrived.  Tell me how often you send out a cheeky twitter and a month later 2 chocolate fountains are on the counter at your very first Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Melissa kept telling people that she was sure I thought she was a stalker.  Let me just say that if you have a stalker, having a stalker who owns 38 chocolate fountains and makes homemade pink marshmallows to dip in the chocolate at your MNACP is the only kind of stalker to have.  We embraced as if we had known each other forever and then she proceeded to set up what became the focal point of the party.  The chocolate was so good I almost stuck my head in it.  She sells it online.  Go and buy some. 

Seriously.

Then the house was packed.  There were women everywhere.  DC Metro Moms?  Jazzercisers?  You name it.  People had brought tons of food and wine and there were cocktails everywhere.  Someone cracked open the Arbor Mist and it got a little crazy.  I’m just saying.  Lots of people brought stuff to give away and we had a raffle too.  I talked to so many fun women.  I ate too many items dipped in chocolate.  It was only when I looked at the clock on the microwave and read “11:38″ that my heart about stopped.  Kimberly was trudging past me and I grabbed her arm.

K:  How did you think this would go?
Kimberly:  To be honest?  I thought people would get bored at around 9:30. 
K: ME TOO!!!

Uh, no.  Because this party was a Mommy’s Night Out first and foremost, with kick ass stuff to buy.  It helped that Kimberly is the most amazing hostess ever.  And we had two chocolate fountains, for heaven’s sake. We raised $100 from sales to go to Vicky’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  I sold “Underpaid Kept Woman” shirts, a creation of the original Underpaid Kept Woman herself, Susie Sunshine.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Latte” shirts and “Mommy Needs Chocolate” shirts and “Mommy Needs a Margarita” shirts.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Cocktail” Martini Toast tanks in cocktail shakers, just like the ones the celebrities got back at the Boom Boom Baby Room.   Hostess gift structuring went out the window because this party so exceeded anything I had ever imagined.  Kimberly ended up with practically one of every style (plus the Mommy Needs a Vacation tote for the hostess-only).  It was off the hook.  It was so much fun.

But the best part about it?  Everyone had carpooled.  Everyone was responsible.  I think everyone had a good time.  We talked about dreams and goals and travel and jobs.  We didn’t talk about kids and husbands.  It was refreshing.  Reinvigorating. 

It was just a really good time.  Wanna see how good? 

You should totally have a Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Think about it.