When the Girls’ Night Out Blitz I had my heart set on for the weekend was cancelled, I felt more depressed then I initially thought I could. I just really needed an outlet. I needed to let off some steam; to bond; to dance..to apply smoky purple eye shadow without fear of judgement.
With the Fertility Appointment looming in the distance—only 4 days away at that time—I felt the unrelenting waves of rebellion press up against my heart. I just wanted to get out there and howl at the moon or something. I wanted to have some honest, clean fun.
But in Mommyland, you roll with the punches. If life gives you a crappy diaper? Change it. If weekend plans buckle? Change those too.
So naturally, I was going to use my ‘night-out card’ to re-sort my office files and maybe run out to Walmart to see if there were some new $5 movies in the grab bin. But my luck was about to change.
One of my best guy friends, Clark, was in town from Vancouver and we’d only been able to connect over a quick pint and salad. This was a travesty because it should have at least been 2 pints and a burger and fries, and both of us knew that the evil leafy green plate in front of us meant we were getting older. Gah. But I digress.
“Well a bunch of us are going out tomorrow night. Are you and your hubs in?”
My eyes glinted. I jumped on the invite with a kind of juvenile bliss I hadn’t felt in ages. Yes. We’re going. My brain started doing the rapid ‘Tetris-fire’ that parents’ brains and maybe Gullum’s are bound to do: “Ok.. Mom can look after Baby Girl.. then Hubs can get home a little early...I can get ready at 7pm...no wait, 5pm...then Hubs can get ready..we can sneak out after she’s asleep but before we’re too late for dinner..my precccciouusssss..”
Hubs, in his sweet and exhausted end-of-week state decided to pass on this one. He and Baby Girl dropped me downtown for the start of my night, and shook his head in mock concern. “Don’t come home puking, ok?”
I made a sour face at him and huffily turned towards the restaurant, but blew a kiss over my shoulder. It’s not that I’m a party girl—far from it. It’s just that sometimes you have to let a little loose, and I guess we both knew that it would be one of those nights—one where I didn’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
For once I didn’t have to think if Baby Girl was ok, or about work, my parents, renovations, my miscarriages, my cycle, or even really what I looked like—although for the record I still totally did the smoky eye. I just got to be one of the guys.
For me, a Girl’s Night Out involves a sea of estrogen, the smell of hot, styled hair and mineral makeup, and a million pretty perfumes mingling with the apple blossom lilt of cold chardonnay.
Guys’ Nights Out on the other hand are all about malts and bitter stouts, greasy carbs, and fart jokes. There are no boundaries, lots of noise, at least one mention of Star Wars, and—in my circle anyways—an impassioned oral dissertation presented about why something (usually a film) or someone (usually a actor/director/musician/comic book character) totally and completely SUCKS.
Sometimes a night like that is exactly what the doctor orders.
10pm gave way to 2am.
“Oh crap. My husband’s totally going to kill me.” I looked around at my friends. There were 5 of us left. I dutifully called my hubs, waking him up. My friends all grabbed the phone out of my hand like we were 15 years old, taking turns to assure him I was in good hands.
The momentum didn’t die down after that. It was like we needed to squeeze all the YouTube, music, drinking, and talking about life into 1 night. Like if we got off-course even for a moment, we’d lose it for the next 100 years.
6am glared at me from my cellphone.
“No. Way.” I sat and pondered what the ugly numbers meant.
They meant I’d have to go back to womanhood. They meant I’d have to leave the safety of my genderless, happy, tomboy moment and revisit the pain of all the things that didn’t happen like I thought they would.
So later that day, tracing the night sky through the sun, I found the 2nd star to the right and carried straight on. Back to my amazing husband. Back to my amazing child. Back to my amazing adventure and the choked up ‘right now’ that is so hard to swallow but so exciting to see unfold.
I have a special place in my heart for my Lost Boys, but it felt good to come home and grow up if just for a little while.
Luckily my husband is very good at sewing shadows, and I have plenty of kisses to trade.