Do you ever feel like you’re still 18? Oh I know I have a house, a family and a respected job, but every so often my little world is jolted by the reminder that I’m not as young as I think I am.
This weekend, in a rather belated family celebration, we went out for a meal. Now, going for a meal in our household is a rare treat, not because I like cooking so much (we have the obligatory fortnightly take-away), but because It’s too much hassle sometime to get, the children out the house, get ourselves out the house and be back in time for the bedtime routine. On this occasion my fears are confirmed, when, arriving at the family friendly restaurant (no swanky candlelit bars for us) we realise we have left the changing bag at home. The baby had done a poo and we don’t have his meal time paraphernalia, cue trip to local Tesco for husband while I wait for our order to arrive!
In walks a group of young people, I expect them to glance over (as young people do when either checking out the talent or the competition) they don’t see me, they order their Alco pops and instead, I’m greeted by a family of five and their screaming toddler… I send the mother a sympathetic look. Yep I’m not 18 anymore.
Our waitress is also in her teens, she looks affronted when I ask her to clean the highchair again (we had a terrible gastro incident involving a trip to hospital last time baby Roo ate from an unknown high chair) I feel like one of those clean freak mums, which if you saw my house, would def cause a raised eyebrow to these demands…. I waitressed once, I sneered at disinfectant wipe mothers but OMG I’m one of them now.
The waitress returns to bring our drinks, neither hubby nor I are drinking alco pops, or alcohol at all for that matter. Oh don’t get me wrong it’s not because we want to be responsible parents, I even offered to drive so he could have a West Country Cider but, we decide, neither of us want a sore head (or the other to have an excuse not to fetch baby from the cot at 3am). We have a coke each and I set about trying to calm the baby by whipping out my boob, the other mother throws back my sympathetic look and the teens look a little disgusted. They are talking about music festivals, I on the other hand am reassuring the eldest that it’s fine to use a single crayon to colour in the menu: leave them out in the cold long enough and all veg turns blue….. Harriet is not convinced!
When did my life change? When did blue crayons become more important than blue vodka drinks and hairspray…. I still feel 18!
Just as the meal is brought out, hubby returns with plastic cups, nappies, wet wipes and, low and behold, disinfectant wipes!!