Last weekend, as I was trying to figure out how to haul, stack, and store 72 bales of hay, a horse named Rich Strike made history. I've been to a few horse races and enjoy watching the Kentucky Derby. I also like any excuse to wear a fun hat or, even better, a fascinator.
What exactly is the point of a fascinator? I'm not sure, but am always game to attach something superfluous to my head for no real reason other than to feel sophisticated while day-drinking bourbon muddled with mint. Count me in.
Sadly, however, I have not managed to watch a single Kentucky Derby live for at least five years - I know because as soon as I was pregnant with that first baby boy my ability to schedule daytime adult activities was curtailed. He’ll be five in just a few weeks.
Despite my lack of Derby watching or participation, every year, I get an invite to a "Kentucky Derby Party" from my friend Mike and his long-term partner, Melissa. Without fail, the invite shows up in my inbox, and I think, "THIS SOUNDS SO FUN WE HAVE TO PULL IT TOGETHER THIS YEAR!" and then we don't.
I haven't yet been pulled off the list for lack of ever actually showing up, but I fear that day. This year I made it so far as to block the day off in my and my husband Mark's calendars and try to find a sitter. That all unraveled when Mark got a call to join a friend at a shooting tournament last minute, and I got the text that my neighbor had hay for sale. After a hellacious week, there was no way we could swing it.
The plans unraveled. Again.
It seems like things fall apart more now as a parent than they ever did in my irresponsible 20s. A child is always sick. If they're not sick, they're injured. If they're not sick or injured - they're likely doing something so embarrassing that I want to hide them from all the other humans.
The fact that I am still included in the email invite list for Mike and Melissa's Kentucky Derby Party despite never going seems like an act of optimism. As someone who spent years watching friends have kids and then seemingly disappear from the face of the earth, I know what it feels like to eventually just give up on trying to get together.
Now that I'm on the other side of the coin, that annual email invite feels like a tether back to my previous life. It's a reminder of the days when my socializing wasn't contingent on tiny people who like to lick walls for fun staying healthy. It's also a reminder that there's a whole world full of adults who want to have actual conversations as soon as we get past the point where I have to answer pressing questions like: "What is electricity made of?"
Electrons. I think . . . if I remember correctly. “Siri, what is electricity made of?”
Pre-children I don't think I understood what a heavy lift it was for my friends with kids to make it to anything. I wish I would have appreciated their effort more when they came out. Now, when the grace is extended to me I should have given others, it means disproportionately more.
Even small things like keeping me on the party list signify hope. There's the hope that someday I will once again don a loud dress and floofy headgear to cheer on horses I know almost nothing about. I'll pick my favorite based on whose name I like the best while sipping a drink.
This year, if I'd taken a break from the 72 bales of hay, I might have picked Rich Strike - because that's how I felt when the shed was finally filled with months worth of food for the goats. Or maybe I'd have picked Rich Strike because I still have friends who believe that someday the stars will align, and we will show up in our seersucker.
Hopefully, next year I'll still get the email, and it will all come together, and we'll finally go. I think it's time to shop for a fascinator.
Thank you for inviting me
We love you in spite of not showing up, because you show up every time you post one of these inspiring snippets. Thank you for expressing so eligantly exactly how we Mammas feel. I guess parenting takes walking in others shoes to understand different points in life. But as Tiffany once told me… it does get better. I have a date with a Friend for Tuesday if nothing gets in the way. It will be so nice to have the girl time. It’s been a really long time. keep trying and keep planning… it will work out occasionally and those moments are even more appreciated because in the end… we don’t take them for granted but instead we drink them in like sweet perfume from a delicate shortly lived flower. Packing every second into our long term memory so that we can relive them when we are up late with a colicky baby or are laying in bed unable to sleep.
So, while I am not one for a fascinator (other than being fascinated by that arcane concept), I fully understand the division we experience as we gather responsibilities like rosebuds. Kids, work, requests from others that both stroke our egos and engage our sense of duty - these all conspire to rob us of those life experiences we would love to explore. Whether a trip to the two remaining continents on my bucket list; finally getting my pilot's license or simply going to a Kentucky Derby party displaying something other than my everyday apparel I too recognize the inability to cram 100 lbs of our soul-draining obligations into our 5 lb bag of available daily cycles. But, as I've said many times, there is no greater joy than succeeding in handling those 100 lbs while finding time to wear outlandish hats, travel to space with Elon - or - write an amazing blog to share with the world. Write on!