Nightclubs. Remember those? I hadn't been to one in at least 6 years. The Mickey Mouse Club, yes. A nightclub? No. Sure, I've been to a bar, mostly when I'm waiting for my table at Jack Astor's, but a nightclub? No. I used to go all the time before I had kids. In university I'd go out at least 4 times a week. Last Friday a couple girlfriends and I were wondering why we didn't go to nightclubs anymore and thought, let's go to one! And you know what? We don't go to nightclubs any more because going to a nightclub when you're a mom is different. Oh, so very different. And here's why.
1. In 4th year university I had a job at an all day breakfast restaurant, and my shift started at 6am. More often than not, I was out late the night before, but having to work in the morning never tamed my night time activities, and a little hangover never stopped me from serving eggs bright and early the next day. Ok, one time an order of poached eggs sent me to the bathroom to revisit my activities from the night before, but the point is I could go out all night and still function in the morning. But, now that I have kids, I just can't do it. I had a 6-year-old's birthday party at 10am the next morning, and that is something you should NEVER attempt to do with a hangover. And so, I volunteered to be the designated driver. Something I never would have volunteered to do before kids. Which brings me to difference #2.
2. There was the very rare occasion before kids that someone would drive to the bar. But never, I mean never did we ever roll up to a bar or nightclub in...a minivan. Never. Not even once.
3. My plan that night was to have only 2 drinks over the course of the whole evening, which proved to be really easy. Do you know how expensive drinks are at a nightclub? I never thought much about the cost of my watery rum and Cokes before kids, but now, well, who has that kind of money? I mean, two drinks costs as much as half a season of skating lessons. Or an Elsa dress.
4. Have you seen what the girls are wearing to the clubs these days? The shirts are cut so low, and the skirts come up so high, and what the heck is with all the side-boob? Is this really what we're doing now? Because if it is, I'd have to have my arms in the air all night because, after having breast fed two babies, that is where my side-boob is. In my armpits. I wanted to slap them on the wrists and tell them to go back to their rooms and put on some more clothes.
5. Not even before kids could I dance sober, so nothing much has changed there. What has changed is that before kids I could at least fake it a bit. But now that I have kids? The only dance moves I have in my repertoire are ones I've learned from the Wiggles.
6. Kids or no kids, there is something about a nightclub that sucks you in and then spits you out onto the street at 2:30am. What do you do at 2:30am after a night at a club? Go for pizza. We were sitting in Pizza Pizza, as we had done so many times before kids, only this time it again was slightly different. There was a guy at the table next to us puking into a napkin, thinking it was a bag. I had a candy in my purse and a Kleenex tucked up my sleeve that I so desperately wanted to give to him. I wanted to get him a glass of water, rub his back a bit, then scold him for drinking too much. Then I thought, he's puking into a napkin thinking it's a bag. I'm not going near that.
7. By the time we finished our pizza, loaded up the van and headed back to the suburbs, it was 4am. Arriving home at 4am isn't very different from when I didn't have kids, but what is different is that I crawled into bed only to be greeted by my 5 year old an hour later, and my 4 year old an hour after that. Now it's 6am and I am in bed with my husband and two kids trying to squeak out another hour of sleep before the girls are up for the day. 7am arrives and like clockwork the girls are up and ready for breakfast. I scrape last night's makeup off my face, throw my hair into a ponytail, and make breakfast. Then it's off to the 6-year-old's birthday party, but first a stop at the Starbucks drive through for a venti dirty chai, extra shot of espresso, please. While I didn't have a hangover, I quickly realized that that didn't matter. My nights of being out late and bouncing back to my old self in the morning were gone. My bounce back was gone. And so were my nights at the club.
In case you were wondering, or ever find yourself having to choose between the two activities, serving a plate of poached eggs with a hangover is way easier than attending a 6-year-old's birthday party on 45 seconds of sleep. Way easier.
No comments:
Post a Comment