I miss my sass. I know that this is a petty complaint, given the fact that this baby is beyond a blessing, especially now given the fact that we now know that it is a healthy boy (after giving birth to three girls) but I have to admit I MISS MY SASS.
We’re going to Atlantic City tomorrow to celebrate our anniversary. And we will be enjoying the Flavors of Borgata, including a beautiful luxury suite. (Hey – we were looking at Jamaica and couldn’t make it happen with the crazy flight times, so we’re basically spending our allotted budget for our last hurrah before baby #4 makes his appearance. Don’t hate the playa…hate the game.)
We were actually looking into staying at the Caesar’s Pocono Palace, but if you’ve ever looked at their website, they are pretty well geared toward hot, sexy twenty-somethings. We are clearly beyond that point, some four times over.
So, we decided to go with the elegance of the Borgata and we’re going to have a fabulous suite and enjoy Savor Borgata, which is a tasting series hosted by all their top chefs, including Wolfgang Puck himself. Also included in our package is VIP entrance to either one of their two white-hot nightclubs. Now, when I was a hot, sexy twenty-something, dancing was my THING. Even after I stopped drinking at age 25, I still would go to the club and get my little virgin drink and go to town till the place closed. I didn’t need a man to dance with (or even a gaggle of friends). As long as the music was good, I would be in my element, getting in hours of good cardio exercise, to boot. In fact, at one point during my college years, I used to joke that I was majoring in clubbing, because I spent more time at the clubs than I did in class. Not a fact of which I am particularly proud, but I digress.
I have a sexy little maternity top and sexy little boots (I even have four-inch heels, but I am nostalgic, not stupid), and cute little skinny jeans…the whole package. And yet, there’s a little part of me that … fears? …knows? …that my preggo behind will be asleep by nine o’clock. My only hope is that during one of my hourly trips to the bathroom, I might catch a second wind and get down to that club and dance the night away on my ample preggo legs.
Either way, we’ll have a fabulous time and after working so so so so so hard these past many weeks (average 70 hours per week – did I mention that recently?), staying on top of all these children’s activities – gymnastics, soccer, swimming, weekly birthday parties, Halloween – I am very much looking forward to a little downtime with my luscious hubby.
So, no matter what happens I will thoroughly enjoy the weekend, but I will absolutely, definitely report back here to you and let you know whether I actually made an appearance at the nightclubs or petered out at nine o’clock.
Labels: dancing, motherhood, pregnant at 40, sexy