I am dressed in grey lined track pants, a ski jacket, dressy brown gloves and a white woollen hat that the dog chewed a few weeks back. It is Friday night, and I have the steering wheel of our mini-van pointed toward the side road as I head out for a night on the town. That is down town Mill River, for all you folks from “away”. Destination: Tranquility Lane. To this tired, frazzled mama, it sounds like a little piece of heaven. The name sounds as sure as a promise.
As I make some tracks out the lane, I glance over to see my daughter lying in the snow bank, flat out and wailing. All the while, the dog is running circles around her head. In the meantime, my husband and son are on a mission to retrieve a lost hat that the dog, which has a fetish for hats, has hidden in the steel building behind our home. The girls are inside avoiding their chores. And I am now heading over to the snow hill, for some possible tubing followed by a traditional Newfie meal cooked by one of my colleagues. Could a Friday night get any better than this?
I love when I get together to spend time with other women. Hanging out with the girls. There is nothing like it, really. Many of us, especially those with young children, view this opportunity as THE most exciting social event of the week. Not discounting Facebook time after the kids hit the hay. But I digress. To get out of the house must be what Freedom 55 feels like for the seniority club. And I’m not talking about the party scene, neither, ladies. I got to escape the zoo twice over the last two weekends. Once to go to a Tupperware party, and again tonight to go eat moose. I must say I jumped ship both times quicker than a drunken pirate and seized upon both opportunities as if they were a piece of good fortune.
It is always interesting to have a get together with all girls and one guy present. The guy is privy to conversations that some guys just don’t want to ever hear. Never. Ever. Yes, there are those rare breeds of men that can handle such delicate matters, but these men are few and far between. Such was the case with our guy tonight, as he is of the latter category. But even with a very open-minded male present, it is funny how the female talk just naturally reverts to the lowest denominator. I have spent a fair chunk of time this school year telling my Kindergarten students NOT to fixate on potty talk or body parts as a fun snack time conversation piece. And yet. SOME of us love to sit around eating nachos and dip and discuss ta-tas and derrieres. Just sayin.’ Personally, I think we women do not get out of the house enough. I came home tonight, and I was pacing. I needed more time out. Two hours is just not going to cut it anymore. To leave and be social with other adult human beings is to bring about a yearning to exit the house more often. A friend recently told me that she had been out every night for six nights in a row. And I think I have been gone an eternity when the two-hour mark hits. I believe we sometimes starve ourselves of social interaction until it is a binge, and then it is all or nothing, baby. It may be the only way some of us can handle having a social life at this stage of the game.
I get in the door, and my anxious child comes over and gives me a big bear hug. I hold her close to reassure her that I am home, safe and sound; I am still reeling from my rendezvous sans kids. I actually phone another friend to see if she will go skiing. As in: tonight. She has other plans for this evening, which is to say she will be staying home with the family. Which is what I plan to do, too.