the party conundrum

Here’s the irony: for years, practically since Damian was born, I hated the fact that an invitation to a party, a play, any evening event, had to be answered with a regret instead of a Yes! and a See you there! Because Damian was too young and then he was too sensitive, too needing of our attention, too afraid, with us the only surety in his life. And so we mostly stayed home and we certainly came home before his bedtime. After a while – a long while – he got better, more confident, and he could probably handle the stress of a baby sitter at bedtime with equanimity but then we had no baby sitter. And so if Dan was invited to a wrap party, a production holiday party, a work gathering, and needed to go cement relationships, I inevitably stayed home with the kid. And I hated that and resented it and felt like the mommy with no other life.

Well, guess what? Tonight we’re going out to the wrap party for Dan’s show. And a baby sitter is coming, the same one who came Saturday night when we went out to dinner. She’s sweet and kind and Damian knows her from school. I trust her and I think he does too. So now it’s okay to go out and probably even okay to have her put him to bed, though I’m still a tad nervous about that part.

So finally I get to go out like a grownup to a party. And I don’t want to. I don’t really know anyone, I don’t really have anything to say, nobody cares about me. I’ll just be a wallflower and ogle the show’s stars, maybe smile at the producers. Oh, I’ll get to meet Dan’s bosses and coworkers, put faces and personas to his work talk, and that makes it worthwhile. But if I had my druthers? I think I’d stay home and cuddle with my kid. After all the buildup of those years without the option, I forgot that I don’t really like this kind of party.

See what I mean about irony?