We took the kids to a local park the other day.
Incidentally, this was the only good weather day Utah has had this spring.
Kinda like the eye in the middle of a tornado.
Yesterday it snowed yet again.
I packed a bag.
I packed my swimsuit and some sunglasses and a trashy novel.
I looked for flights out of this barren, frozen wasteland.
Then the kids came home from school.
We made cake, and I forgot about leaving.
Anyway, at the park.
There was this:
Here is a closer look at the babe on the left:
I blurred her face before sending her out into the world wide web, to save her that one remaining shred of dignity.
Although I am sure that was completely unnecessary on my part, cause this chick was STRRRRRUTTING her stuff at the park. Her straw hat was the bomb-diggity, and she knew. She knew.
Her friend was a little more demure about looking so Mary-Poppins perfect.
But she was still feeling it.
All the heads turned at the park when they went by.
They came screaming into the park in a sweet 8 passenger van.
Honest to Pete, I HAD to go look and see if the licence plates were from that compound in Texas.
They were Utah Centennial plates.
I am sure these icons of motherhood graduated from BYU with a major in Home Economics and a minor in Child Development. I bet they were taking a break from their morning whole wheat bread making and taking advantage of the crisp air to discuss planting their gardens as to yield the best produce to later bottle and preserve.
The kids were well-behaved and dressed with actual matching shoes and socks. Their vocabulary did not contain things like "butt" or "fart-brain."
Mikayla came over right about then, wearing her two-left feet flip-flops. She wanted a drink of my diet Dr. Pepper. I had to put down my IN TOUCH magazine to reach it for her.
And that is when I realized.
I ain't never going to be THAT.
And really, I am okay with it.