blue hairs and a baby

Oh my...I must tell you about today.  

It involved forty wealthy, old southern women, their weekly bridge game and a baby boy.

But first, a little background...I've it mentioned before, but I nanny part time for a super sweet family with two awesome boys, 2 year old E and 5 month old G. I love it. Both boys have stolen my heart and melt it nearly every day; with E's excited & happy to see me hugs chased by an "I love you Lawel, yets go jump on the twampoline, you want to?" and G's drooly smile and chunky cheeks.

So, I go over today {not during my normal time} to help cover while P (their mommy!) goes to her weekly bridge card game at The Belle Meade Country Club.  I arrive, P gives me a hug and says, "Laurel will you go grab G? we're about to load him up and do something fun...let's go to The Club and show him off to all the old ladies before bridge starts and then you can bring him back home."
{You Nashvillians, who know about the BMCC, are already picturing this, I know it!}

I was game, I love showing the little booger off and he's tripled in size {literally} since he was born and since most of them have seen him. Now I wasn't sure exactly what to expect as P jokes about playing with practically blind 100 year old women, who beat the brakes off of she and her partner weekly.  But I was sure she was exaggerating and being modest; P is in her early 40's, gracefully rocking the "hate her because she doesn't know how gorgeous she is" kinda beauty {inside and out} that could easily pass her for 25...plus I knew a couple of her friends played too from time to time. So it couldn't be as geriatric as she makes it sound.  Surely.

And for a bit more information to help paint this picture, let's just say The Belle Meade Country Club is quintessential Southern, extremely formal, with overflowing "old money", Caucasians with important last names and, well, as of late, you have to be "grandfathered in" to even be a member...get my drift?

Well we arrive...P holding G and me walking by her side, ready for the hand-off at any moment.  We walk into a room with exquisite draperies, ten tables with fresh pressed linens, gold chiavari chairs......and more pastel, khaki, blue hair and walkers than I've ever seen.  Seriously, I felt like I was beamed into a movie starring the Sophisticated Golden Girls having afternoon tea in the formal living room at Tara Plantation.

She was right.  All of these women could be her grandmother and my great-grandmother, easy.  I died. These 40 little old ladies, average age 82, all roll over on their walkers or get up to pinch the cheeks of this happy, fat baby boy.  For those that couldn't get up, P took him over to get a rosy kiss.  I stood over by P's table trying to take it all in and I know, without a doubt, that I had the funniest look on my face because I was smiling so hard it hurt trying to hold in the laughter and pure awe.  I was graciously offered brownies and lemon tarts by no less than 12 women in 5 minutes and I only cringed once when I saw a little one look at me then ask P if she brought her "nurse"...oh my.  P winked at me and recovered with delightful tact. Then I was invited into a passionate conversation about the secret to Mrs. Pennington's hair; because it still looked so good and {can you believe?} she hasn't had a permanent since October...you can imagine my two cents, it was fairly hilarious.

Enter Mrs. Adelaide. 96.5 years old and the best looking lady there, hands down.
Who offers me a gin and tonic. At noon on a Tuesday.
When I politefully decline and joke that I have to drive the baby home, she grabs my forearm, leans my ear down to her lips and says, "well darlin, home is only less that a mile away, you know".
She was right, exactly right...and I was tounge tied.
Mrs. Suzanne saves the situation when she leans over to tell me that Adelaide is really a marvel and her family had to make her stop driving to Florida by herself about 2 years ago. Then Mrs. Elizabeth explains that Mrs. Adeliade is known as the Designated Driver at The Club, because after one martini, she's okay to load up several wheelchairs in her trunk and drive her tipsy friends home.

I am speechless. 
Did I mention she is 96.5 years old? 

Oh wait, but Mrs. Adelaide is P's partner.
Of course.

Part of me really couldn't believe groups like this still actually exist, in the flesh.
And part of me couldn't love P enough as was she absolutely spot on about her blue hair bridge beating accusations and I admired her for being part of this group and keeping them "young"; they were so proud to see little G as she had shared her pregnancy and excitement with them as they watched him grow in her belly, every Tuesday at noon...over lemon tarts and gin and tonic sweet tea.

P laughed hysterically this afternoon as I told her my take on the epic event that was "Baby G Visits Mommy's Blue Hair Bridge Friends" and I think I'm going to ask her if I can write this story in G's baby book. I hope she says yes.