Mummy’s *big* night out. A mediocre story.

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Pic: “Quick, Kez – pick a karaoke song!”

I don’t get out much at night time anymore. Ever since I started teaching the Little Mister how to sleep through the night again, I’ve been reluctant to break his routine and cart him around with us to too many dinners or evening events. Also, the idea of being able to get out in an outfit that doesn’t involve leggings or flat shoes usually seems to remain a fantasy and not much more. So when my friend messaged me last week, alerting me to the fact that she was back in town and wanted to catch up at a local bar, I got a little excited…

Actually, in all honesty it went more like this:

I realised it was an evening thing and my heart sank a little.

I checked my husband’s work roster to see if I could possibly be baby free that night.

I made a check of my bank balance.

I allowed myself to become tentatively excited.

I made a request to my husband that he stay back at home with the bub for a few short hours (while wrestling with my guilt at being one of “those mums” who leaves their families at home just so they can go and socialise).

He said yes.

The day arrived and I questioned myself about whether or not I was too tired to be heading out on a “school night” (every night is a school night these days).

I then wondered whether I even had anything suitable to wear.

I suddenly remembered a(n) LBD that was sitting in my wardrobe waiting to be worn.

I then allowed myself to feel genuine excitement.

Are you tired just reading that???

To my non-parenting (read: smart) friends, this casual couple of hours of drinks event was probably just a blip on the weekday radar, I’m sure. Something to look forward to, but you just got dressed, turned up and Bob’s yer uncle. For me, it was sadly a BIG DEAL. You would think I was headed to an Academy Awards ceremony or something. Or at least the VMAs. I shaved my legs for this, guys. AND I ACCESSORISED. I even…wait for it…I even fired up the ol’ hairdryer and used the ol’ volumiser in my hair. I trialled three pairs of shoes, before deciding on my nude platform HEELS. I wore eyeliner, eye shadow and blush. EVEN LIPSTICK. I PAINTED MY NAILS.

I do not get out much, so when I do? I’m going to make a damn effort, damn it!

Anyway, I got there and I had a great time catching up with old friends. I had TWO glasses of wine. No-one tried to grab them off me. I ate some snack fries without anyone crying about the injustice of it all and trying to steal them. We spoke about adult things (OK by that, I mean I swore a bit and we mentioned things we wouldn’t joke about in front of our mothers). It was great. But it was only to last a couple of hours, before the friend who invited everyone out was to return to her mother’s house for the night.

All was not lost. Luckily I had a partner in crime. We weren’t done yet. We heard there was somewhat of a karaoke night going on at the local Irish pub. We wanted to go there and join in on the fun. We were thinking of going nuts. After all, I was wearing a nice outfit and I knew the Little Mister was at home tucked up in bed sleeping soundly. My husband was probably not so secretly hoping I’d come home late, inebriated and a bit frisky. My friend has no children but works hard and hadn’t let loose in a while. This was so on.

Well, we got to the Irish pub and it was a little bit tame.

“Where are all the young people?” I asked. “I thought Thursday night was big with the young people in this town!”

My partner in crime (since age 6) agreed with me. This wasn’t what we expected.

“Should we just skip the alcohol so we can both still drive home?” we asked each other.

We sidled up to the bar making jokes about how wild we are, when the bartender asked what we would like.

“I’ll have a Coke, please….and my friend will have a…”

“Lemon, lime and bitters, thanks!”

The bartender went about his business and came back with the drinks. It was time to pay.

“We’ll um…pay separately please.”

I broke a $10 note (a big deal to break any notes these days) and my friend found her little change purse and slowly counted out the silver coins in it.

The bartender shook his head and smiled sadly at us.

“Where should we sit? Over in the booth?”

“Oh, we won’t be able to see the karaoke from there. Let’s move closer.”

We sat awkwardly right in front of the stage, under the lights.

“Let’s take a photo of us together and put it on Facebook and make it look like we’re having a wild night!”

I fumbled with my iPhone and we bunched our heads together.

“Wait…just gotta flip the camera view around – it will be easier that way…”

“Smile!”

“Yep, got it! I’m totally ‘checking in’. You should comment on it and say what a crazy time we’re having. Everyone will think we’re totally living it up!”

“Haha yeah! We’re so funny!”

“Let’s do karaoke! Should we look at the list of songs and pick one?” my friend asked.

“Let’s wait until someone bad performs and then we’ll have a go,” I suggested, knowing deep down that we were way too sober and chickensh*t to actually follow through.

No-one was bad. They were hardcore regulars. Every one of them. The dude that sang Hootie and the Blowfish totally had the X-Factor and the guy who hosted the karaoke ad libbed during a Johnny Cash song (the daggy dad dancing was a bonus and we nicknamed him Somebody’s Dad because he just seemed like he could be ANYBODY’S dad).

“Maybe we’ll just listen.”

“Yeah, maybe next time we’ll bring a whole bunch of friends with us and get drunk.”

“Yeah, next time. Next time we’ll be so awesome and have such a big awesome time. Next time!”

Then we left. I climbed into my big, wagon-y, family car and I was home in time to watch Criminal Minds and tuck myself into bed at the usual hour.

I don’t know who I am anymore. But I had a great time 🙂

The End.