I Can't Work No 9 to 5

Rewind back to two weeks ago when I was texting with my cousin.  He wrote, "You know what song reminds me of the summer you were here?............Gone til November." Right then and there I jumped into the time machine that transported to me the summer of '98. That was the summer. That I left my parents' house the day after graduation and headed off to the wide open spaces of New Mexico. Where I spent endless days and nights hanging out with "the cousins". Driving around in the jeep, causing trouble, having way too much fun, and listening to some Wyclef. That was the summer where I was on my own, where I made my own decisions, as scary as that was and as scary as those decisions were! That was the summer where everyday Reggie and I swore we were going to wake up and go running together. Midway through, we finally got up to that 6 am alarm, ran our two miles, and never once did it again the rest of the summer. That was the summer I drove around in the beat-up Acura Legend that looked like crap but ran like a smooth ride- with a broken odometer. Which resulted in getting pulled over 5 times, but only 1 ticket- on my 18th birthday. That was the summer where I vowed I would always have this close-knit relationship with the cousins. A vow that never had a chance of lasting. Just as the memories of the summer never have a chance of dying. And just the way that those memories refuse to die, so does the longing to have my cousins in my life more.

Come back to speed to this weekend. I was in Vegas for the first time without a husband on my hip. He was replaced by 3 beautiful baby mamas. One of which wore red lipstick. And that red lipstick acted as a magnet that attracted all the club reps to our little group, inviting us to get on guest lists for various clubs. We got good at graciously declining. Until Fabian walked into our lives and said one word that would change our weekend. We had already dismissed his invitation but I have to assume he kept talking, although we quit listening. Until he said that one word that stopped me dead in my tracks, "...blah blah blah............Wyclef." Wait, what? Wyclef? At the club? Performing? The girls saw my reaction and stepped in and said we would be going. They were going to make sure this happened for me. That's what friends do. With our names on the list, we were in. Us 4 crazy moms, clothed head to toe, 2 of them pregnant, none of us drinking......but somehow we were on the VIP list.

And to top that, we somehow were awake at 12:30 am and ready to hit the club, show off our finest dance moves {ha!},and hang out til 2. That's right- he finally took the microphone at 2 in the morning. Mamas gone wild in Vegas! Hahahaha, pathetic but it made us feel like we were young and fresh again!

And when Wyclef grabbed his guitar and replaced the bikini dancer 5 feet in front of us, and started strumming Gone til November, the nostalgia intensified and I was living the summer again, wishing I had my side-kick right there with me. So that together we could reach out and almost touch those days gone by; to momentarily taste teenage freedom again; to once again make that wasted vow that we weren't going to let our relationship slip away.

That's what Wyclef did for me. At least one thing he did for me, among making me all giddy, making me love music all over again, making me wish I was Lauryn Hill, making me remember that I too can't work no 9-5. Which is why I'm a Baby Mama. Which is why I need to get my booty home bc it's 3 am and that's not how I roll.

FYI, Wyclef's still got it. And apparently us Baby Mamas do too.