Not So Much Gloating, As Floating.

I don't use this blog to gloat.

Because let's be honest, what have I got to gloat about? I don't have a bikini ready body and I didn't just get back from my cruise around the world. So when I say to you, "I went on a girls weekend this past weekend and we stayed at the Ritz Carlton and it was awesome." I am not gloating. Nor should you take it that way.

Gloaters would be those people who when they stay at the Ritz they pull up in their convertibles, their over sized shades and their shitzu's in their purses.

Gloaters are the ones who wear their bikini's into the elevator while going to the pool.

Gloaters are the ones who walk up to the hotel bar and know some fancy shmancy drink to ask for.

I am not a gloater.

I am a mother.

And I went to the Ritz Carlton with three other mothers.

We got a discount.

We pulled up in my little black SUV that I did have especially washed for the weekend but one could still not mistake the fact that at some point in the not too distant past, a child threw up in it.

When we finally reached the hotel we looked like a hot mess. Why? Because we had gotten (collectively) 13 children off to school that day, straightened our houses so our husbands could at least find the remote, loaded our luggage in our car by ourselves and applied deodorant as we are driving down the road. When your a mother, it's a little hard getting out of town.

We never went to the pool and although our room overlooked it we never once looked at it. To do that we would have had to open the curtains. And to open the curtains would have been to let the sunlight in. And to let the sunlight in would have been to arouse us from a very restful sleep. The kind of sleep that goes from 10pm until about 8am. And them from 11am until about 1pm. And then from 3pm until about 4pm.

During the times we weren't sleeping we were eating. And not in the big fancy restaurant downstairs, oh no. We were eating the chocolate covered peanuts we found in the lounge. Why? Because we spent all our money buying..........you guessed it..........presents for our kiddos.

See? So far? Not a gloater.

When we were thirsty we didn't go to the hotel bar. Nope. Instead we went to the hotel lounge. We stuffed free Dr. Pepper's in our purses along with bottles of Gingerale. Because one of us had the stomach bug that they had caught from......you guessed it........our kiddos.

Oh, yeah. This is just gloatalicious.

While some gloaters leave in their convertible for the Galleria shopping experience, we do not. Instead we drive halfway across town to find a store that specifically sells Crocs. Because one of us has bone spurs and we need a good sole.

We also don't hit up an oxygen bar or a new age spa. We do however find one of those Rocky Mountain Chocolate stores and order a Diet Coke. And a chocolate covered pretzel.

While some who stay at the Ritz opt for the all day spa treatment, we choose to go to Nail Envy. It is ran by a family that doesn't speak one word of English and sang Buddhist worship music the entire time they did our feet. But we didn't care. Because one of us fell asleep and snored. One of us read a People magazine cover to cover. One of us updated Facebook and one of us......you guessed it.........called to check on the kiddos.

While some girls leave the Ritz on a weekend night for a rousing evening of clubbing and caviar, we play it a little safer. We head to a nice, quiet restaurant where we can share our favorite recipes and help the other one come up with ways to punish her video game addicted teen. We discuss hair and fashion and our inability to do either of those with great panache. We share trade secrets in parenting and our husbands favorite things to eat that we make. We don't order sushi or fancy Japanese beer. We order the strip steak. And meatloaf, for the one with the stomach bug.

Because, you see, we are mothers. We are not gloaters.

We are wives. We are not gloaters.

We are ladies. And we are not fancy.

But we have each other. And we love each other. And we would listen for hours while one shares pictures of her kids or talks about the way her husband makes her life sweeter.

And I'm happy to do so - and I'm honored to do so - with these ladies.

So perhaps I am gloating........just a little.