Escape from Mundanity

So it's a Beauty day on the Bay, after multiple days of pounding rain.  I figure, Gee, it's going to be easy to get to Las Vegas!

I was wrong.

I got to spend a lot of time studying the modern art at the Oakland Airport.  There was now pounding rain down in Vegas (which is not only unhappy, but ill-prepared to deal with same), so we got to sit in black leather chairs for two hours; then one more hour on the plane, in situ on the proverbial tarmack.

But Finally, we get to Vegas.  I take one look at the driving rain and say, Taxi!  (My "big" car accident was in Las Vegas, in the rain, struck by an LVMPD officer racing to a car jacking with no lights or sirens.  'nother story)

So  I get to my beautiful suite (gratis) at the Palazzo, a place I visited and adored last year.  After playing at a bar having coffee for like an hour, they'd signed me up for one of their players' cards, and had been sending me offers for a free room, M-Th.  Of course, it's never really free, is it?

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Back Story

My beautiful children.  Look at them.  Butter wouldn't melt, etc.  Except they're different now.  The older one looks like a racoon with her Emo (Gah, Ma, it's Scene, not Emo! Gah!); and the younger now sports spectacles and braces (life is so unfair!  I'm the ugliest person in the Whole Entire School!  Gah!) 

A lot of Gah's going around.  And a lot of internecine battles.  Constantly.  Con-Stant-Ly.  What's a hormonally-challenged mother to do with two adolescent, equally hormonally-challenged tweens?  Aside from shooting oneself, that is.

Well, one makes rules, draws lines in the sand.  And one inches back, every so subtly.  Until ones back is agin the wall.  And one is just pure-D sick and tired.

So they had their "winter break" (vs. the spring one in April) last week.  We were Going to go to Hawaii.  I found a deal way back in September and planned it all out.  I love to plan trips.  I have a ball.  Found a good rate for airline tickets and a great deal for a condo @ Turtle Bay.  (VRBO)

 But they wouldn't quit fighting, and were escalating.  The name-calling was getting out of hand, and the damage to property was getting embarrassing.  A torn-off door handle on one bedroom door; a gouge out of another; spilled "substance" on the carpet in front of one door - and the other says the other did it to make it look like the other did it; and the other says the other did it in retribution.  And getting into the car - even to go seven blocks - was becoming cause for driving straight into a tree.

So I told them.  I told them!  You knock it off or No Hawaii!

They didn't.  I cancelled Hawaii (actually had not made rezies, so no loss to me).

Did they learn?  No.

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So we've still got this week off.  I'm feeling normal, everyday Mommy guilt, and decide to check out if this Palazzo place will let me stay there basically the whole week.  They say, Sure, Come on down!  I get a free suite, Monday through Thursday, two queen beds, sunken living room, marble bath (overrated, do Not step out of the tub or shower without placing your foot onto a Towel), hide-a-bed L-shaped couch thingie. 

Hurrah!  We have one friend down there with a Brand new baby; and another with a brand-new (bank repo'd) house.  We got things to do and people to see!

Stevie Raquel

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Guess What Happens?

Well, of course, they blow it.  And I become the horriblest, worst, evil-est mother on the planet.  It's comical.  When it doesn't hurt.

Literally two weeks before the trip, we have one of those Saturdays from hell.  I end up in the Safeway parking lot crying my eyes out.  I call the ex in Nevada.  C-can y-you {hic} come and -- and get th-them for winter b-b-reak?  He's alarmed (always was when I cried, which is seldom) and readily agrees.

At first, they are unfazed.  A couple three days go by.  A mention here and there of "our" trip.  I always respond, quietly:  "You're not going.  Remember?" 

 One week before, another Saturday, they overhear me on the phone with their dad.  Much whispering ensues.  Sunday, all is bliss.  There are awkward, "Please pass, um, the salt, um, please?"  to one another at the dinner table, followed by equally awkward, "Um, of course, here.  Um, you're welcome."  And the eyes and the eyebrows dart to me and away, to and away, like shy minnows, or barn swallows  (is she watching?  Is she observing how wonderfully polite we are?).

Finally, Sunday night, the youngest can't stand it. 

"Um, Mom - Hey, how's Baby Stevie?  Or are we going to call her Rocky?  I mean, isn't that funny?  She's got two awesome names!  And, um, we can call her one or the other funny nickname and it's just so cute and I can't wait to...."

Me:  Flat stare.

"Mah-ah-ahh-om!  We've been really good, haven't you seen?  We're getting along well now. Didn't you notice?  We're going to be good.  I promise.  Haven't you seen?  We're much better now.  Really!   Reallllllyyyyyy!  Can we go?  Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?  I have to see the baby, you know how much I love babies and we won't fight we won't even look at each other and you and Baby Mama can go out and we'll babysit and we won't complain and we won't touch each other and we won't even Look at each other I promise!?"

 Me (very quietly, almost a whisper):  "No."

OMG. 

I mean:  OMG!!!  You'd have thought the world ended.  Lots of slamming, crying, I Hate You's, You're the Worst Mother in the World, etc. etc.  etc.

I was oddly untouched.

So I went.  Alone.  And I had a great time.  With friends, sometimes; alone, sometimes.  Alone is something I do well, actually. 

And, strangely enough, they got over it.  Even before their dad came to take them away, a certain finality set in.  The youngest hauled a bunch of stuff over to his house to decorate her room, spent at least three days on that project.  The oldest is practicing her ennui and her very own flat gaze, and so locked herself in her room with her vampire books.  They got lots of rest, played with their dogs, hung out with their dad. 

And I, I did Vegas. 

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 I thought this post was gonna be about my trip to Vegas. 

I guess it was about my babies, instead.