A short poem:

Look not upon me with pity… 

Because I missed the party. 

The babysitter was sick,  nothing big;

But not wanting to be a pig, 

Or inspire.. 

Her to conspire… 

The party we chose to retire

For one night of revelry 

Is not ever worth 

Babysitter ire. 

*end*

Last night my hubs and I  missed another good party. Unlike the many that have come and gone since our son’s birth,  this was one we knew would be good. Just our speed,  starting not too late,  close enough to home to be able to get there and back,  with a couple hours of revelry before 1am. The crowd would be all people we knew and there would be no worry of anyone laughing at us for clearly having too good a time (interpret as damn near ‘dutty wining’)  because they would know that,  as new parents, we would make the most of every child free moment in a fete. 

Alas,  the baby sitter was sick. Party done. Before it even started. 

In the past missing a fete would inspire an adult tantrum in me. I’m a planner you see,  outfits and shoes are chosen at times before tickets are even available…I rally the fellow party troops early. I’m usually the chick that organised the Maxi for fetes.

 But that,  my dear friends, was pre baby. 

When I heard the baby sitter ask for paracetamol on Friday,  I knew our Saturday plans would be off. I simply mentioned same to the hubs,  we shrugged and ensured we had enough food and Pampers to not need to leave the house on Saturday night. Saturday night became like the five week nights before it –  a night at home. Guess what,  we are OK with that. 

Keep your shade. 

We played our own music,  courtesy my son’s crib mobile. We swayed to the music in dim night light,  shared a rocking chair (its the size of a small counch) in the baby room and waited for the young man to drift to sleep in his crib. 

When he did,  we,  one after the other revelled in the loveliness of a dinner of left overs from the week, the treat of a shower and actually had a non child focused conversation before sleep found its place in our far too rushed lives again. 

Not even Machel live could beat that. OK.. Wait.. Maybe.. But not at this stage of my life. I’m increasingly ok with that,  I waited 38 years for this,  I can wait another few months for a party. 

So when I was told how great the fete was, I smiled. And when the friend did not understand why I was not ‘sour’ I missed the fete….  When she asked me why I did not make plans to have ‘anyone else’  watch ‘the child’,  I just laughed. She would not undertand.

Life has changed. It has indeed slowed for a while. But the life of the party is enjoying life and,  of course,  never ever wanted to vex the babysitter. 

I’m not mad. I’m a working mum.