Friday nights are not what they used to be.
I used to think I was having fun, before I had kids; but I just didn't know any better. Now I know what REAL fun is. Real fun is coloring a picture together (or twelve), playing Barbies, building blanket forts, and having tea parties that turn into tickle fights.
I still dress up on Friday nights, only in plastic jeweled tiaras and Hello Kitty necklaces now. I still go out, but it's in an imaginary carriage... to an imaginary ball... in my living room. (Way better parking than at the club or bar, by the way.)
I still dance on Friday nights, but now it's to the Elmo Potty Song and the Disney Jr. Soundtrack. And I can do it in my socks, instead of heels. Winning.
Eating hot dogs and mac-n-cheese on a blanket in the living room floor beats any meal in a fancy restaurant. (That's their "thing" right now...eating in the floor. I learned that if I throw down a blanket and call it a "picnic," they will eat almost ANYTHING I cook, including "green stuff." I draw the line at spaghetti though. Spaghetti is NOT a picnic food...despite their arguments in an attempt to build a case for it.)
Sometimes, when we're saying bedtime prayers ("Dear God, Tank you ever-ting and ever-body. Pease let Sissy do not kick me tonight. Amen") or when they put their little hands on my cheeks and kiss me goodnight ("I love you, Mommy!" "Wuv ew, mama!"), I feel like my heart will burst. I try to remember what things were like before they existed, and it's all a haze of meaningless, skewed priorities.
Friday nights are not what they used to be... They are much, much better.
♥M
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