Are we there yet?

Sometimes, we can learn a lot from children.

Well, maybe not about things like physics, whether the stock market will continue it's amusement park-like ride, or how to find a good mechanic. If you want to know how to irritate your sister without actually touching her, or even being close enough to touch her, but still causing the sister to yell, "MOM! HE'S ALMOST TOUCHING ME," they can teach you a thing or two.

One of the things that kids are really good at is asking questions. A lot of questions. Generally, the same question over and over again. As we were driving to town this morning (actually, we were still on our driveway) my son asked, "are we there yet?" Granted, we have a long driveway. But really, it is evident from the extremely wildlife-intensive surroundings that we are nowhere near town, nor are we going to be in the near future. "NO," I said.

And, I got to thinking. After visiting a dear friend of mine in "the big city" this weekend, I had been pondering whether I really am "there" yet. Am I where I thought I would be? Ten years after graduating from law school, had I even begun to achieve what I thought I would? I suppose the answer is no. If you asked me ten years ago if I would be living in a small town with three kids, two dogs, two cats, a mortgage, minivan and various poultry (don't ask), I would have taken the first tentative steps toward a full-fledged drinking problem.

Oh, pardon me. I was drinking my wine.

So, ARE we there yet? I always knew I wanted kids. I love my kids. They make me smile and have the ability to irritate me at the same time. I understand my mother more now. I have developed a very similar strained smile that tells the world I love my children, even though one of them is distracting me while the other two are currently committing minor acts of vandalism and theft in the checkout line at the Wal-Mart Super Center.

Oh, dear God.

I am living a very good life. I have a wonderful husband whom I love and am very proud of. I have three beautiful children who I would give up my life for. I have a big, new house and lots of land and I have pets. I could give up the pets, really. But, on the whole, my life is very good. It's just not the life I imagined.

I thought I would be a prosecutor for a large county. I figured I would run for judge someday, or at least District Attorney. I thought I would have a nice suburban lawn for my kids to frolic in, a street outside they could ride their bikes on, and neighborhood barbeques. I was supposed to have a nice car with fewer crumbs permanently attached to the upholstery, and a house with toys neatly organized in bins and a guest bedroom with 400 thread-count sheets just waiting for someone to come and watch me be fabulous.

I have some of those sheets somewhere. I believe they are being used to make a fort.

But, you know, I think about all those things, and when I look at my life now, I realize that even though it is different than the one I thought I would have, I still love it. I love (well, not really, but it's a small point) my minivan, and I love my husband, and my house, and my job (usually)and all the other things that surround me every day. I don't love the poultry. If that damn rooster crows one more time in the middle of the night I'm going to take the final steps toward becoming a real-life frontier woman. I have a hatchet and a great recipe for fried chicken.

I think my biggest challenge is to actually take the time to enjoy all of the things I have.

Am I where I thought I'd be? No.

But I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Nothin' But a Good Time...

We just wanted to re-live our youth.

That's why seven women (and one male "superfan") loaded into a red mini-van and a Ford Focus and drove for an hour to see POISON in concert at the Douglas County Fair. If a van full of thirty-something women with kids and pets and mortgages are not what Brett Michaels and his band were expecting when they decided to form a rock band 20 some years ago, then they should have given it a little more thought.

I drove the "party van." I won't elaborate much, except to say there were some mildly illegal activities going on in the back seat, and despite all knowledge and experience to the contrary, people actually took pictures of themselves engaging in said activities. I mean, come on. Don't you people watch the evening news????

So, we got to the concert, and I was struck immediately by the fact that each and every one of us had to run to the bathroom. This was no coincidence. I remember when I was young, and had the bladder elasticity of a 16 year old. Not anymore. We all made a beeline for the restrooms, and continued to do so for the rest of the night. I don't remember one time when we were all together unless it was in the bathroom line.

And then, the band came out. And we were all transported back to a time when big hair, makeup and skin-tight clothes were not just worn by the female fans of the band, but by the band members as well. Brett Michaels still knows how to shake it. The band can still crank out the party songs like it was yesterday. But I did have that feeling that they probably headed back to the tour bus to pop some Tylenol PM and get Ben-Gay rubdowns by the Rock of Love girls.

I made one purchase that night. The t-shirts were too expensive, and I don't wear t-shirts anyway. So, I went for the POISON g-string. At $20, it was the most expensive piece of elastic I have ever purchased.

Thanks for the memories, POISON. I'll be a fan forever. Not just because of the way your music makes me feel like a teenager again, but because it also got 7 thirty-something women (and one "superfan") with kids and mortgages and bladder control issues to get in a van, and pretend they were kids again, for one night at least.