A tale of two parties
Tonight, a bunch of work friends decided — right as we were all about to leave for the day — that they were going to go out for dinner and drinks.
It was totally spur-of-the-moment, and for them, it was the perfect plan, because …
- They all live downtown.
- I mean right downtown. As in walking distance or an $8 cab ride from the bar.
- All of their spouses were meeting them there.
- It was a gorgeous evening.
- They all like to drink.
They wanted me to go with them. But today is my nephew’s birthday, and I was invited to the family dinner/cake/presents deal-i-o. Darling Husband is working a night shift, but that never stops me from hanging with his fam.
I told my colleagues about my plans, and everyone told me to blow off the family party. My boss jokingly said he was ordering me to go, as a work function.
I have caved in situations like this in the past, because I don’t want to miss any team-building rah-rah-ness and feel left out when they talk about it on Monday.
But this time, I hesitated like crazy, because going with them would mean …
- I would either have to take the bus late (and alone) or pay for a $35 cab ride back to my condo in the ‘burbs.
- I would spend $20-$25 on food, Diet Coke, tip, etc.
- Even though I can handle being the only “single” person in a group of couples, it does kind of suck.
- I would have to do the whole “No-I-don’t-want-a-drink” dance, which would lead to preggo speculation.
- I hate spur-of-the-moment decisions. Unless it is about buying new craft magnets or something.
While they were standing around discussing the venue, I grabbed my coat and bag, and explained that I really felt I should go to my nephew’s party. Everyone groaned and I felt soooo lame. I played it off like I felt like I had to go, had already promised, blah blah blah.
But truthfully? I had already told Darling Husband’s fam that I probably couldn’t make the party, because I thought I’d be stuck at work until late. So I could have easily went out with my work friends, and no one would have known.
I wanted to go to the party. I wanted to have dinner with my huge, crazy family-in-law, and eat birthday cake and give my nephew his present in person. I wanted to sit around the living room with them and laugh and talk.
I never could have admitted to my work friends that I chose to go. They all seem to detest their own family events, and are surprised that I spend so much time with Darling Husband’s family.
No, wait — scratch that.
My family.
I really do think of them as my family.
And I know I made the right choice.
Family showdown: Gosselins VS. Hayes
Twins, twins and sextuplets compared to twins and sextuplets? It’s not a question of numbers, but of how two similar-sized familes can be so different.
I’ve heard a lot of negativity about TLC’s new show, Table for 12, so I felt compelled to blog about it.
Everyone is saying that Jon & Kate Plus 8 is sooo much better, and while I’m a huge Gosselin fan, I think the Hayes family is happier and more well-adjusted.
For example …
- The mom and dad do not fight in front of the kids — a refreshing change from Jon and Kate
- They live in a fairly small house — not like Jon and Kate’s new mansion (yes, mansion)
- One of their daughters has cerebral palsy, and they are so good with her
- They have two more kids than Jon & Kate, and yet seem to handle them much better
- They are constantly saying how they are grateful for the kids, and how wonderful it is to be a big family — whereas Kate likes to remind everyone that her life is a chaotic struggle
I can only hope that the Hayes family does not become as successful as the Gosselins, who seem to be falling apart as they “move up” financially and popularity-wise. The Hayes family is an inspiration just the way they are.
Saying no to stuff
I am that girl. You know, the one who keeps everything.
I find sentimental value in basically anything, so I have a really, really hard time getting rid of stuff. I have found sentimental value in graphic tees from American Eagle. That is probably the definition of crap, but yet, I kept them!
The good news? Every since I boarded the Baby Express, I have found myself willing to travel (through life) with LESS STUFF.
Thinking about fitting an extra human — and a ton of human gear — into our condo has freaked me out. The only solution seems to be getting rid of stuff, to free up space. So I have!
About a month ago, I did a major closet-clean, followed by the main bathroom cupboards, and a cleaning-out of the coat/shoe closet in the hall. I was ruthless, tossing jackets and shoes like I was trying to strip Chace Crawford (mmmm).
My next step is the office/art room, and I’m dreading it. I’ve been creating a pile of junk — mostly Darling Husband’s crap, haha — in the corner that I need to sort and toss. And then I’m going to move on to the dreaded storage room.
I’m grateful that for the first time in my life, I feel able throw stuff away. It must be a good sign that I’m not clinging to junk, and being Miss Pack-Pat anymore.
And, of course, it reduces the chances of Baby being misplaced under my giant stack of old Cosmo issues.
This is too cute!
Thanks for the tip, Newlyb!
A momentary flinch
I saw a friend last night that I haven’t seen in ages, and he asked me how I was liking my job.
Oh.
There was a momentary flinch on my part, but then I recovered and said I’m still really liking it.
He saw the flinch.
I admitted that while I did like it, for the most part, the lack of creativity was really starting to get to me.
He understood, because like me, he used to have a super-creative job where he was known for his writing — much more known than me. Now he has a more management-y job, too, and we both miss what we had before.
I’ve been asked about my job a lot over the last year, and I’ve always been cheerful and told people how much I like it … and I do.
But last night was the first time I couldn’t hide my doubts.
I’m more determined than ever to publish my first novel and return to writing permanently. I want to fill my days with words and turns of phrase, not calculators and budgets. I don’t want to keep feeling like a wolf writer in sheep’s manager’s clothing.
And how will I honestly be able to tell my children to follow their dreams, if I didn’t do the same?
As featured on …
