Where You'll Find the Most Audacious Women all in One Place

A girls weekend {and Wyclef to boot} was calling my name last year, and before I could stop the plans...I was absent for Kaia's first birthday. We made it up this year by hooking the sis up with solid 80 degree weather and the best swimming her little self has ever encountered.
And this is how we found ourselves in Palm Desert, California this MLK weekend.  Where the sun was shining something wicked and there wasn't a cloud in the sky to crash our party. That, in and of itself, is the best gift ever. And there's something magical about day one of vacation. Where we're all taking care of each other, and somehow our patience capacity- kids and parents alike- has found a new high. It may be short lived, but even so, those brief moments seem to sing from the top of their lungs, "PERFECT FAMILY!" And I, for one, was eating it up. 
So was my stream of thoughts- of how well-bahaved my children were and what great parents Yosh and I were- as I was taking the steps two at a time to retrieve a forgotten item in the hotel room. To my dismay, the key machine was barring my entrance like a disgruntled bouncer. But not to fret, because within 2 minutes a staff member was by my side asking if, by chance, there was something he could help me with. Like a knight in shining armor.
After opening the door and before he was on this way, I stated the obvious- that I couldn't believe the perfect timing of this whole situation. This is when the awkward throat clearing happened, and his next sentence started with, "Well, actually...." which is an ambiguous type of beginning. Well actually I've been hunting you down because I wanted to ask you out but didn't realize you had four kids or it could be going more in the direction of Well actually I was coming up here- to your room number- to respond to a noise complaint. Talk about blind siding a girl. A girl who, none the less, was five minutes prior, congratulating herself on the impeccable state of her family. Tainted reality.  Of course, I could neither confirm nor deny the accusations being thrown my way, I could only promise that tomorrow morning would be filled with an increased effort of improving our tip-toeing techniques and inside voice skills. Now, had some type of time machine been in place and this same scenario could have taken place an hour later, it would have been the perfect opportunity to bring up my one complaint of this resort. And that would be the subject of the excessive amounts of goose poop found on our make-shift football field, even intruding on our big ole jumping rocks. One might be under the impression that goose poop is not bothersome enough to require some sort of confrontation slash intervention. But let me tell you, when you are mistaking goose poop for dog poop, there in lays the problem. Who knew that geese were large poopers? And when I discovered these massive amounts of large poop, I wondered how we could possibly get this issue brought up in the next Rancho Las Palmas committee meeting. Which is when my mind reverted back to my knight in shining armor and how that was the obvious time- which I obviously missed- to shed light on this issue and get it resolved once and for all.

But it wasn't meant to be, with the timing being off and all. And who has time to resolve goose poop issues anyways when families are being loud {at a family-targeted resort...} I can only assume that our imperfect family of 6 was ratted out by one of the hundreds of audacious women laying out poolside with their orange bronzed skin, chasing after just one more shade of tan. And let me tell you what I like about this scene- it's at the pool and beach scene alike. There is confidence exuding from these women. We got old and young, big and skinny, all rocking every cut of bikinis with no shame in their game. It. does. not. matter. if they look good in them or not, they are owning it. And can't nobody hate on that. There are fake boobies and real boobies hanging out in every direction you look, and the women....they could care less. Exuding confidence. And that, my friends, is something I can respect. 
Which leaves absolutely no room for me to even entertain the thought of getting upset for whoever the old hag was that reported us loud and unruly. For all I know, she was probably out late the night before enjoying the live music on property and stayed up just a tad past my 9:30 bedtime. And had that been me, I, too, might have considered running footsteps at 8 am loud and unruly. Good for her for getting out and being young and wild and free.
And here- in all this twisting and turning and neither here nor there- I can't help but identify with one of the best movies ever, Dirty Dancing. The Kellerman's vs Ranchos Las Palmas. You know, a little bit of drama, a lot of noise, a little bit of dirtiness, and a lot of women to give it The Feel. If I didn't know any better, I would've been looking around every corner for Patrick Swayze to try to sneak in a quick dance lesson. Then again, maybe I should stick to the Ghost set if I'm looking to see Mr. Swayze, bless his resting heart.
All in all, I'm a huge fan of resort vacationing. Every part of it. The 80 degree weather and the crankies phoning in noise complaints.

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