You know you are a mommy of 4 Littles when the thought of going out to a friend’s retirement party is a big exciting deal!
Last night as I was changing the baby for the party, I felt tired and that it was not worth going out if I had to bring my 18 pound baby in my already fatigued arms.
Then, like a knight on a white horse, my husband returned home, kissed me and said most gallantly “leave her with me tonight, go out and have fun.”
WHAT??? Who was this man and what did he do with my husband?
Before he could change his mind, I grabbed a tiny Gucci handbag I’d found at the DAV few weeks ago. In it I placed tissues, my cell phone, $5, and my driver’s license, and nothing else!!! Then I headed out the door.
Given my proximity to civilization, I calculated that if I left at 6 and had to get home by 10, I’d have 2.5 hours to PARTY ON.
Once on the highway in my ultra sexy white minivan, my mind went a little wild as I cranked up the latest Hits on the radio and pictured the party in my freakishly imaginative mind.
There I was, at the party, disco lights splashing dewy faces with a party glow, throwing back drinks and jumping up and down on the dance floor with my friends.
When the song Don’t Stop the Party ended and I floated back to reality, I reminded myself this gathering could involve fluorescent lights, chairs in a circle, punch, and polite chit chat. Ok, I said to myself, it’s still a night out without any kids for the first time in over 7 months! I went on smiling and turned up the volume on the radio.
I noticed in my mirror a car passing and swear I saw someone in the car with six inch high mohawk! I was on the road at night on a Saturday with people sporting mohawks! WOOT!
The party was crowded, yes! The light were dim, yes! Wine, yes! I made a beeline to greet my retiring friend Tim. We met dancing at his wife’s dance studio waaaaaaay back when I had only one baby. Tim and I did ballroom, I belly danced, and taught adult ballet. Great times! Tim is one of the sweetest men I’ve had the privilege of knowing.
And by the way, if you want a really great looking ass, do the Cha Cha Cha. But do it correctly. Tim taught me and is so much harder than it looks…
Pretty soon, Mommy was feeling properly tight after only one and a half glasses of wine. My belly was satisfied on meatballs, nuts, and cake. I joked, chatted, and laughed with friends and my parents. (my mom was also a former dancer at the studio)
Time to dance! There was a band, a really great cover band. For the very first time in my life, I understood the appeal of being a groupie! The band rocked and they were easy on the eyes too.
Tim danced East Coast Swing with me. It was as easy as riding a bike again. Fun! Mommy misses dancing. I twirled around the floor in my brand new jeans and cowgirl boots, grinning ear to ear like a lunatic.
There was a young family there, a mom, dad, little by, and twin baby girls. Every time I said out loud something like “aw, poor couple had to bring their kids” my mom pointed out it was followed by a high shrill laugh. Poor you, carrying two babies around. I’m not! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! Tra La La!
Later I made my friend Angie join me on the dance floor as the band covered songs like Brick House and La Bamba. They ended a song and I screamed, clapped and shouted “great band!” The base player yelled back “great dancing!” Would it be wrong to kiss him. Yes. It would. I have a wonderful husband and four kids at home.
All too soon, the clock read 9:30pm. Clock, you son of a beeeeech!
By 10:21, I was in my bed, nursing the baby, and excitedly relating the night’s events to my husband, whom I thank profusely for letting me out.
I admitted to him that for more than a few minutes I had fantasized about running off to be a groupie. He laughed and said “I’m glad you had a good time.”