Mamas Gone Wild*

*Author has taken creative liberties with the definition of the word “wild”. Though comparatively speaking, what you’re about to read is quite rowdy Mama behavior. 
I’ve been reclaimed by my captors and have been placed in a maximum security wing of the prison to discourage any further attempts to break free. They can chain me to the stove, but they can’t take away my memories. Nope, I have them locked away in my over-fatigued brain—oh and I also have them in full color pixilation for you to view as well. Of course, they were all taken with my iPhone because—surprise, surprise—my camera battery was dead. But better low quality, than none at all, right? As you’re looking at these pictures, please let me know if you pick up on any overriding themes. (hint: we like to eat. a lot.)

After having a tasty lunch at Coastal Flats, we rushed to the theater in time to catch Dear Channing Tatum You Are Sooo Fine. No wait, that’s not right. I think it was called Dear Nicholas Sparks Why Do You Always Make Me Cry? Or something like that anyway.
We had a delectable dinner at a French Steakhouse which was an odd combo I thought, but delicious right down to that chocolate tarte I consumed in 3.5 seconds. After all of that food consumption, someone had the bright idea to try ice skating for the first time ever. I think it might have been me. Why do I do these things? I mean I didn’t think that I had a death wish, but apparently I do. 

Sure it was all giggle and laughs getting our skates on and watching the zamboni, but then reality came sliding in to remind me that ice skating involves razor thin blades of terror on a sheet of rock hard, freezing cold ice. Teresa was the lucky one—being pregnant and all she had an airtight alibi for her lack of participation. I had nothing to get me out of harm’s way but a railing and the grace of a higher power.

Sam and Molly had to be show offs and take to the ice like little Sasha Cohen clones. I  swear, I think I saw Sam complete a triple axel as I was clutching desperately to the rail. But what I lacked in balance and skill, I made up for in congeniality by making several new friends as I warned them that I might at anytime run them over, trip over them or pull them down with me as I fall. I had at least four concerned skaters who’d give me pointers as they glided by me. Of course since most of the advice involved moving away from the safety of the rail, I ignored it. Let go?? And people say I’m nuts.
Before heading back to the hotel, we made a late night stop at Harris Teeter to pick up necessities. Of course, what can be deemed a midnight necessity is up for interpretation.
Sam and Molly: baby food and sippy cups. I mean come on girls! We don’t have kids anymore—we’re free, free, free! Well, until the next morning anyway.
 
Teresa: Krispy Kremes and a whisk. I understand the pastries, I means she is pregnant and those glazed doughnuts are heaven on earth. But the whisk? We don’t cook on girls’ weekend Teresa. In fact, I’m currently working on a return treaty that would bar us from cooking ever again. I just need it ratified by four husbands; I’m sure that won’t be a problem at all.


Now this is what I’m talking about ladies. This:
 
is a necessity. So necessary in fact that the entire six pack is sitting unopened in my fridge as I type this. Apparently, you can take the Mama out of the house, but she’s still too tired at 1AM to be doing anything but laying in bed watching Channing Tatum kick some Cobra behind. Go Joe!
I’m sorry that I don’t have pictures of all of the shopping we did. Well no, I’m not really as that’s a detail probably better kept off Drew’s radar. I plan on being on my best behavior so I might earn a weekend pass for a future trip. You’ll put in a good word for me, right? Or at the very least, try not to mention the stuff about Channing.