Love thy neighbor

So, I have not had good luck with neighbors. Well, I shouldn't say that. Growing up, I had pretty good neighbors. Or at least there were kids my own age that I could play with. Although, they weren't good neighbors in that they broke into our house, stole money and ran up our phone bill while we were in California for a month. Yeeaaahh. Bad luck. In college, though, some of my best friends were first my neighbors. And, when my roommates and I rented an apartment, our upstairs and downstairs neighbors were pretty great.

So, let me rephrase. In my adult life, I haven't had luck with neighbors. My first apartment out of college was this awesome 3-story, brick-faced walk-up in a suburb of Cleveland where most young single adults lived. My sister lived within walking distance, we were close to mass transit for work and also in close proximity to the local bars. Good place. Great memories.

But neighbors? Yeah, they sucked. The woman I shared a floor with was so unfriendly. I didn't get it, either, because we both frequented the same bar down the street. Think she ever offered me a ride? No. Hmmph.

Anyway, after my husband and I married, we bought a house in the same city I had been living. My sister had also gotten married and lived, again, fairly close to us. (BTW, my sister? Always had good luck with neighbors. First house? A man who cut her grass. Second house? A nice couple who liked porch parties.) In our new house, our neighbors consisted of a couple to the left of us, who:

• cleaned out their garage (finally), and scared all the mice who had taken up permanent residence
• hung their party plates in their garage with pride
• had a dog who barked nonstop

And to the right of us, a very nice couple with two teen-aged children. He was a postman and she ran a day-care out of their house. I'm not sure what they thought of us, though. The day we moved in, my sister went over to ask for a bottle opener. Her response?

"We don't drink."

Oh. Oh. Well, she was going to love us.

When we bought our current house, I thought we'd have better luck. My brother? Has great neighbors. On one side anyway. And we all live in the same development, so I figured... WRONG.

We live in a cul-de-sac, you'd think we'd all be close. But, our immediate neighbors keep to themselves, save for a wave now and then. The people 3 doors down are great. They tell us stories about how great the cul-de-sac used to be, how they used to have parties in the circle and all that. So... we're about 12 years too late. And there are no kids around us that are our kids' ages. Sigh.

But that all changed recently. We met the neighbors behind us. And they are awesome. They meet all our requirements. They:

a) say hello
b) have younger kids
c) enjoy drinking (at 10am on a weekday now that he's on summer break)

The kids were introduced and, as time has gone by, play together every day. I love it. Their 4-year-old is, well... something else. She stands at the end of her backyard, waiting for us to come outside. When she sees the boys outside playing, she runs over and walks right into my house to ask for a snack. She's awesome.  Sometimes, at night, I can picture her face pressed up against our darkened windows, looking for us. But, that can't be real... right? Right??

Yesterday was no exception. It was my family's annual golf outing. Of course, my husband plays. And my dad, brothers and sister-in-law. (Guess who's the baby-sitter?)

So, I had 4 kids to care for, a mother to check on (she had eye surgery last week) and 3 neighbor kids, who came over to play. I admit I get just as excited to see them as my 5-year-old does. We've been waiting 3 years for neighborhood kids to play with.

There were 7 kids at my house. Their dad is really good about coming over to play with the kids, so I'm never overwhelmed. My girlfriend also came over yesterday to help me out, which was great. I can handle a million kids over the age of 2, but my niece, who's 11-months-old, is a handful. At one point, I was making sandwiches for 3 kids, feeding the baby, putting drops in my mom's eye and fixing her lunch. I find, though, that I work better in high pressure situations, so it was fine. Chaotic, but fine.

However, when we got to the party after the golf, I allowed myself a little too much wine. I figured I had a busy day while they were all off having fun, so I deserved it. That was a mistake. This morning, I wasn't feeling so great.

I wonder if I can hit up the neighbors for some Advil?