All the frat parties in the world could never have prepared me for the absolute lunacy that is life with twin toddlers.
I went to a school with one of the largest Greek systems in the country, babies.
I was social chair of my sorority.
I was part of an annual party called “The Meat Ball,” that was a ball, thrown by meatheads, that happened annually. Funnels were passed around, and my friend Jesse actually dressed up like a rolled ball of meat.
When it comes to wild college antics, I always said “been there, done that, and if given the chance I would do it again.”
“So if you’re such a professional when it comes to sophomoric bedlam, Dear Mom,” you must think, “why do you look so surprised to see us suddenly streaking through the kitchen?”
What’s the big deal, right, when you dip your faces into bowls of yogurt and put the bowls on your heads and think it’s hysterical when you have completely covered your upper bodies including cultured-blueberry goatees? I’ve been to muddy tailgates. I should not be phased by the revolting mess.
Nor should I be phased by the fact that, at not even two years old, you find the hilarity of a fart.
The spontaneous dancing is nothing new to me. The furniture climbing. My feet have graced the bottom of a mantle or two. One minute you’re on the floor with a toy playing nicely, the next you’re…you’re…where the hell are you guys? You’re naked on top of the living room coffee table with a colander on your head, of course.
And lest not forget how fun it is to throw things. Anything. Let’s take every cushion off of every piece of furniture in the house, make a pile with them, and jump on it. Yes, let’s.
You guys pretty much do whatever you want, like young American twenty-somethings. You don’t understand the meaning of no. You don’t listen. You think it’s hilarious when I get fed up with you throwing food–see food fight scene in “Animal House”–and I turn you around in your high chairs. You sit there and flop your feet and blow raspberries. Jokes on Mom! Phhhttthp.
You have no respect for authority.
You think you are invincible. I don’t need sleep! Let me climb to the top of this playground and propel my body off of it onto a swing, weeeeeee!
No. This frat boy behavior is nothing new to me.
What goes around really does come around.
I have been there, done that, and here I am doing it again. Only this time I am way too sober to say “co-ed naked slip-and-slide, now that’s a good idea…”