Are you talking to me? Are you talking to ME? (aka we’ve still got it. Sure, it sags, but we STILL got it.)

I was given an amazing gift this weekend.

I am blessed with some amazing friends, but one in particular has been an important part of my life for about 18 years. Her name is, um, Thelma, and we first met while teaching together here at Smythe Elementary.

Our oldest children, both girls, are almost the exact same age. They spent many years thrust together as a result of their mother’s wonderful friendship.

They've spent these past 18 years giggling, laughing, crying, pulling each other’s hair, stealing each other’s boyfriends, talking behind each other’s back, perhaps getting into a BIT of trouble with the LAW together, studying, growing apart and coming back together. And while they are both 21-year old seniors at universities at opposite ends of the country, they come together like two old ladies completely at ease with each other.

Bitchy and “Her Royal Highness” spent last week planning a weekend road trip for the four of us. While “HRH” and her mother, Thelma, often go trotting across the country for fun excursions to New York City, San Francisco or Denver, our excursions usually involve Wal-Mart, Target and Big Lots; and not necessarily in the same week.

The girls discovered that Blake Shelton and Brad Paisley were performing at an outdoor venue a mere FOUR hours away. After a secretive discussion with Thelma, they purchased tickets, made reservations at a hotel and whisked me off on Saturday for a road trip. Me. ON A ROAD TRIP.

We found our way to Darien Lakes New York, and parked in a HUGE field next to the amusement park. We were prepared to tailgate, and the four of us enjoyed a wonderful couple of hours sweating in 95-degree heat, enjoying cool beverages all the while watching a gazillion twenty-something country music fans play beer-pong, grill hamburgers and drink many of their own beverages before heading like cattle into the concert.

The girls walked a tad bit ahead of us, wearing brightly-colored cowboy hats purchased from a friendly vendor working the parking lot. We walked briskly, laughing and smiling in anticipation of an amazing concert. We were winding our way through huge parties and tons of cars when we heard the yelling.

“HEY!! WOO HOO!! Great hats!!”

We smiled, not sure who they were talking to. And then it came.

“HEY! YEAH FOR THE MOMS! YEAH MOMS!!!”

We turned, and saw a row of rowdy, somewhat hunky fellas clearly enjoying the day. Their hands were raised, and one was pointing in our direction.

“YEAH FOR THE MOMS!” One of them yelled at us with an amazing smile on his face, the rest of the group pointing and clapping.

We waved and bowed, and with a lot of laughter turned and made our way to the concert.

Yeah for the moms indeed.