So maybe you’re wondering how Baby Bug and I spent Memorial Day? Maybe you read something somewhere or saw some pictures… And maybe you want to hear my side of the story. Ha! Of course you do.

Here’s how holidays usually go down at the secret agent house: Wake up. Do the same thing you did they day before. The end. Weekends work the same way. Every day is Monday and every day is Saturday too. That’s how it works when your home is an office and there are no boundaries between work and state. (Of course we’re not counting the weekends I go to out to the sticks but I can’t be going out there every weekend. Toby would starve.)

Because I’m brave and lack social skills, I emailed Whoorl and told her that I had nothing planned for Memorial Day and I was day dreaming about sitting on her patio and sipping something. I also told her that I day dreamed about Baby Bug eating her plants and wrecking havoc on her very swank and very carefully decorated patio.

Let me just take a sidebar and explain how everything at Whoorl’s is soooo perfect. They have patio chairs with pillows and there is this wooden bench with a basket thing hung on the wall behind it. We’re not talking country clutter either. This basket thing is ART. ART OUTSIDE! They have art everywhere. Cool art. Art that makes me want to make my own art. I love their house. Their plants are even stylish. I like to visit and pretend I’m living in a magazine. End sidebar.

I didn’t really expect Whoorl to invite me over. She lets me come over all the time on my way to the park but that’s just on week days. She usually has plans on the weekends and holidays. She’s social and well connected and has friends in LA who are hip and cool. I figured she’d laugh at my funny joke about Baby Bug wrecking her patio decorations and then tell me how she’d love to hang out but she has to go to this super-fun-smashing-get-together (or a football game or something.., What? Is football season over?).

Imagine my surprise when she invited me over on Saturday AND Monday for margaritas aka whoorlgaritas that are famous in this state. And THEN she said that if I didnt’ come over on both days, she might cry. What?!! She really did! She did! I should post the email. I was so happy! Wowie Zowie, I have real holiday weekend plans! Even Toby was kinda proud of me. He thinks I should drink more often. I’m sort of a prude when it comes to drinking. I just started late so I always feel like I must be a lush if I have a glass of wine or something.

Saturday came around and I packed up Baby Bug (and her tea set) in the stroller and headed over for a tea party with Wito and Whoorlgaritas with Whoorl. Let me just say, the whoorlgaritas: they are yummy! Not too sweet. Not too tequila-ish… but juuuuuuust right. So just right that you could easily have another one and think nothing of it. Until all of a sudden you’re just sitting there, chatting away and ka-thunk you feel very very whoozy and glowy and maybe you better keep sitting down and let Whoorl rescue the baby from eating that aloe vera plant instead of getting up yourself and tripping over your own feet. Don’t worry. I didn’t drink that much. But I did feel very glowy and happy and was perfectly content to just sit and be still and not worry about taxes or bills or babies that don’t nap.

But it doesn’t stop there. We continued the fun in two parts. Part two was on Memorial day when we moved the party to the front yard. I am SO jealous of Whoorl’s front yard. She has real grass. A lot of it. Not like you folks in Canada or Utah where you can’t see from one side of your property to the other but relative to my complete lack of dirt or grass, Whoorl is living la vida verde. She could even play croquet on her lawn if she wanted to.

The afternoon was divine. The sun came out so D (Mr. Whoorl) set up an umbrella for us and Whoorl spread out her pretty flowered bedspread. She says, “What? This old thing? I use it to cover up furniture and pick up dog poop.” (What! Just kidding on the dog poop part.) The kids played and Wito ate all Baby Bugs snacks (which Baby Bug didn’t mind at all because she was too busy hugging him). Then some neighbors came over and it was more chatting and sipping and kids playing till the cows came home. I love our neighborhood because it is like this. Everyone hangs out in their front yard.

Of course these sorts of things come to an end eventually because there are nap schedules to keep to and husbands to feed and such. Baby Bug and I wheeled ourselves home and then both conked out and took a nice whoorlywoozy nap until 6:30 pm! An hour past her dinner time! Oh no! Everything went down hill from there. I didn’t realize that I’ve inadvertently put Baby Bug on a pretty strict schedule. If we waver off of it more than an hour, all hell breaks lose. When bedtime came around she just wouldn’t fall asleep. She was content to sit in my arms and listen to me sing to her for TWO WHOLE HOURS but every time I would put her down in her crib, she woke right up and cried and cried and cried and cried. It was awful.

What have I learned from this? Whoorlgaritas are tasty and fun but you better get home before the nap clock strikes or else you will turn into a pumpkin who stays up all night long singing to a fussy baby.