Things I will do this year on July 4 now that I have a baby:

  • Willingly put my puckered lips on a blue latex hippo-shark floaty and blow until I see stars, to inflate what will occupy my child for all of four minutes.
  • Wear a flowy dress that I pretend is a vintage muumuu, knowing it’s left-over maternity.
  • Say no thank you to glistening daiquiris, mouthwatering micheladas, and jello shots in favor of La Croix with a straw.
  • Slather sun block over teeny tiny toes and fingers and squirmy little limbs, and have my heart explode with how excited I am to finally do this mom task.Congratulate myself (out loud) that the sunblock I’ve selected is the world’s safest and so eco-friendly that you can actually eat it. Lick my fingers to prove my point.
  • Actually complain to my husband that the beach is too sunny.
  • Declare loudly that hotdogs are a choking hazard!
  • Bring a giant bag filled with diapers, swim diapers, wipes, a bottle, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, baby speedos, back-up
  • board shorts, and three different kinds of burp cloths, yet still forget the favorite chew-toy.
  • Get so much sand in said diaper bag that I throw it away on July 5.
  • Decide primly that 9 p.m. is too late for fireworks for decent people. Actually say this aloud.|
  • Ask anyone who will listen, “When did fireworks get this noisy?”

“I will… Slather sun block over teeny tiny toes and fingers and squirmy little limbs, and have my heart explode with how excited I am to finally do this mom task.”

Things I will not do this year on July 4 because now I am a “proper” mother:

“I will not…Still be awake for the fireworks.”

  • Willingly put my puckered lips to a nitrous balloon because America’s Birthday means whippets.
  • Put on a string bikini. Or any bikini. Really a bathing suit of any kind at all.
  • Light a cigarette with a lighter that I’ve been keeping tucked in that bikini.
  • Make-out with my friend’s hot Australian neighbor because he lives on the beach, and check his mail on the way out the door so I can learn his name.
  • Put vodka inside a watermelon with a syringe that’s meant for baby Advil. (Which would never work because the syringe is way too sticky and it’s at home stuck to the kitchen counter anyway. Also, vodka: barf.)
  • Destroy the competition at Flip Cup.
  • Hold a lit sparkler too close to my face.
  • Still be awake for the fireworks.
  • Wonder if having kids will change my life. (Forever.) And wonder if I’ll love being a mommy. (The most!)
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