Last night I went out to dinner with two of my best friends in the area. Dinner was at 6:15, and I got home at 10:15...and all we were doing was talking. Every time we have a girls' night dinner, I'm reminded of how much I enjoy just talking and spending time with my friends. We talk about our lives, kids, husbands, current events, whatever. It's just a way to see that other moms struggle with the same things you struggle with (children who like to talk your ear off, the occasional temper tantrum) and sometimes things that are even more challenging (medical problems, speech therapy, developmental delays).
As I was leaving last night, Lea cried that she didn't want me to go. I gave her a hug and a kiss and promised that I would check on her when I got home. Despite the tears, I didn't feel guilty leaving her. First, I knew she was in great hands with Tad. I made them tuna and lettuce sandwiches for dinner (one of Lea's favorites), and they were planning to eat outside and then go to the pool. Second, I knew that time away connecting with my girlfriends would make me a better, happier mom in the end. (And third, I'm pretty sure that me being away for a couple of hours will not permanently scar the child).
Whenever I have girls' night, it reminds me of the book group meetings my mom used to have when we lived in New York. Although I'm sure that she must have gone over to other women's houses sometimes, the meetings I remember most were the ones at our house. I think it was because I was privy to a bit of the mystery - although I didn't participate, it was a glimpse into what went on. My mom would make some sort of hors d'oeuvres (I distinctly remember her making the cheese/rice krispy thingies that I love) and get the house in order. During the actual meeting, I played in my room and then went to bed (I think - my memory on what I actually did isn't so clear). Looking back, I have no idea where my dad was or what he was doing during the time. I do remember listening at my door to hear what my mom and her friends could be talking about. I could never hear anything specific - just the sounds of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Whenever I heard laughter, I always wondered what they were talking about. To me the whole thing seemed very mysterious, very grown up, very cool.
I'm sure that Lea will understand and appreciate the need for girls' nights when she gets older. Perhaps she'll even look back on the nights when I kept my work clothes on, refreshed my lipstick, and went out to meet the girls. And hopefully she'll understand the importance of having good friends around to keep you grounded and happy.
As I was leaving last night, Lea cried that she didn't want me to go. I gave her a hug and a kiss and promised that I would check on her when I got home. Despite the tears, I didn't feel guilty leaving her. First, I knew she was in great hands with Tad. I made them tuna and lettuce sandwiches for dinner (one of Lea's favorites), and they were planning to eat outside and then go to the pool. Second, I knew that time away connecting with my girlfriends would make me a better, happier mom in the end. (And third, I'm pretty sure that me being away for a couple of hours will not permanently scar the child).
Whenever I have girls' night, it reminds me of the book group meetings my mom used to have when we lived in New York. Although I'm sure that she must have gone over to other women's houses sometimes, the meetings I remember most were the ones at our house. I think it was because I was privy to a bit of the mystery - although I didn't participate, it was a glimpse into what went on. My mom would make some sort of hors d'oeuvres (I distinctly remember her making the cheese/rice krispy thingies that I love) and get the house in order. During the actual meeting, I played in my room and then went to bed (I think - my memory on what I actually did isn't so clear). Looking back, I have no idea where my dad was or what he was doing during the time. I do remember listening at my door to hear what my mom and her friends could be talking about. I could never hear anything specific - just the sounds of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Whenever I heard laughter, I always wondered what they were talking about. To me the whole thing seemed very mysterious, very grown up, very cool.
I'm sure that Lea will understand and appreciate the need for girls' nights when she gets older. Perhaps she'll even look back on the nights when I kept my work clothes on, refreshed my lipstick, and went out to meet the girls. And hopefully she'll understand the importance of having good friends around to keep you grounded and happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment