A Little Bit Like Time Travel

This past Saturday, Erajh and I got dressed up, left the girls with a babysitter, and headed up to a housewarming party for a friend of ours in West Palm Beach.  When we arrived at our friend’s swanky apartment building in the city’s center, there was a doorman who checked to make sure our names were on the list and eventually gave us directions to the building’s rooftop where the party was being held.  We were about an hour late and still managed to be some of the first people there.  Gotta love South Florida.  But as the night wore on, more and more people arrived until there was a sea of party guests.

We mixed and mingled, and had a fabulous time…but something seemed a little off.  The conversations seemed different than we usually have.  We had been there for about 3 hours when it hit me – with the exception of one other couple, we were the only people who had kids.  In fact, we were some of the only party guests that were married.

Normally when we go out, we go out with people who have kids.  To talk about our kids.  Only to go home early so we can wake up with our kids at the crack of dawn the next day.  And because parenthood can be so all-encompassing, it’s easy to forget what it was like before.  This party was a trip back in time.  Because I used to be like those party goers.  Exactly like them.

The people at this party lived in loft apartments in the heart of the city – a far cry from the 4 bedroom homes in the suburbs Erajh and I were looking at the day before.  They worried about how close they were to work or their favorite bars/restaurants while Erajh and I were considering school districts.  The people at this party went to brunch on the weekend after leisurely sleeping in – unlike Erajh and I who had been up since 8 am that morning (and we were probably the only ones to wake up at 8 am the morning after the party).  For the people at this party, the housewarming soiree that went until 11:45pm was the pre-party for going out “later”, while for me it was the main dish and dessert.  I was exhausted by 11:30.

I decided to keep these differences to myself, and embrace the opportunity.  To take the trip back in time.  I made every effort to talk about work, college, our move, and anything but our kids.  It was really tough, but I tried.  And I had a great time pretending for a minute that I wasn’t a tired, overwhelmed mom of 2.  But as I drove home that night I looked forward to checking on the girls and to having brunch before 11am with our friends the next day at a restaurant that would no doubt be loud enough to cover up our kids’ screeching.  I was glad not to be one the people who would be sleeping until noon the next day.  And it was in those moments that I realized how far in the past my pre-kid self really is.

Who knew my husband’s car doubles as a DeLorean?