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The Writing Mother

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Thursday, July 14, 2005
Some people's lives...
Most of my co-workers came in today complaining of how tired they were after partying last night... It's the Calgary Stampede week here in good old cow town and there's partying every night of the week. It's sort of a western Canadian Mardi Gras... without as much nudity. And no beads. But lots of cowboy hats. Even the newspapers put these paper cowboy hats in the middle section and the tourists pull them out and actually wear them.

I'm a bit immune to the excitement. First of all, I'm a horse person so I'm used to smelling them and because I'm a horse person I realize that all the TRUE horse people that are actually down at the Stampede are busier than heck right now showing and preparing their horses.

Anyways, half of the sales force at work left early to go down to the rodeo last night. In fact an hour before the end of the day there were only two of us left! Having just returned from vacation I couldn't afford the time away, I'm behind. Well, not behind per se, but just not as far ahead of the game as I usually am.

I'm the total teacher's pet, I admit it. I like to get stuff done first, I like it to be correct the first time and I like to have all the answers. If the documents I sent to be approved came back with a big fat A circled in red with a happy face sticker I'd be happy as all get out.

So this morning as everyone is regaling me with their stories of their nocturnal adventures, I am wondering if a) I'm just really boring or b) I'm just more satisfied with life.

It's not like I haven't put my face time in with the great big porcelain god. Oh I was the par-tay girl from way back. But I think perhaps I've learned that money spent on alcohol is usually just thrown away (or up - in this case) and a full day moaning about how crappy I feel is a day I will never get back.

I mean I have things to do.


But there's a part of me that wishes I had that freedom, that carefree attitude of the 19 year old I used to be. Of course that's the same part of me that wants to be fitting back in the size seven jeans with the nipples that pointed closer to north than to south.

Last night I had dinner with the ex-SIL (who's my favourite person in my ex-in-law clan) and I picked the least child friendly restaurant on the planet. Crayons? No. Kid's menu? No. Small glass? No. Oh way, the bar has some... OK then. My son's dinner was larger than mine was, it was a HUGE plate of spaghetti that he will be eating again tonight.

Then I went home and put the kid in the bath. Then I put the kid in bed. Then I fell asleep in bed next to the kid and my boyfriend kindly woke me up around 11pm to tell me to come to bed.


But no matter how much fun my co-workers had last night, there is nothing better than falling asleep next to your little boy (Mr. I'm not a boy I'm Batman) and listening to the softness of his breath.
  The Writing Mother
  posted at 8:48 AM


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