Nightlife contemplations

Babysitting is finally happening.  Like, real, put-him-to-bed and let me party babysitting.  We've been hiring the cousin of one of my colleagues for some weekend daytime babysitting and frequently we use the grandparents for a dinner date, but this weekend was the first time Ben and I BOTH went out to see music at a venue, Nectar in Fremont, on Saturday night.  I repeat, the first time.  This was one of the reasons we wanted to move back to the city.  We had my dear friend Rebecca babysit Hudson.  It was the second time he'd hung out with her and when we walked in at 12:30 she said he had fought bedtime a little bit but only in a sweet, I want to stay awake, kind of way.  Otherwise everything had gone great.  I was stoked. 

I have a couple colleagues at work who are pregnant, and one gave me a ride home recently from a faculty party that ended up going until almost midnight -- but we left around 7:30 -- we talked about how she dreaded the end of nightlife as we drove away, and I could say little more than, "yeah, it sucks."  She and her husband dropped me off in Wallingford where I was going to meet up with Ben and then drop him off at Bilbao to watch a new set of flamencos take over the gig there.  As in, I was going home to put Hudson to bed and he was going out to have a big flamenco night.  He ended up hanging out until two in the morning having a juerga with them all in an art gallery somewhere in Pioneer Square.  After leaving the faculty party early and then watching my husband head out to party on a weeknight, I went home feeling a little bitter.

Since I am the full-time career woman, and also the one who Hudson clings to most and who he falls asleep with, I tend to be the early-to-bed parent.  I wake up at 5:45am so I can't afford to stay up late anyway.  It is definitely hard to be the responsible one sometimes.  I get a little jealous when Ben goes out and meets people, because it's just as hard for me to make friends, and I even get a little jealous when he gets to stay up late just watching flamenco videos and drinking beer. 

I keep reminding myself that there is a bigger, more long-term picture here:  Hudson is growing and changing and soon he'll go to sleep on his own (I don't actually know if this will ever happen, I'm just saying it will) and I will have more control over my evening.  Some day he'll be able to come to flamenco rehearsals with us.  Some day he'll spend the weekend with the grandparents.  Some day...

And yet the other side of the big picture is that I came in to motherhood fully prepared (or at least this is what I tell myself) to take on the time and responsibilities that come with it, and being with my son and helping him sleep well are important parts to this.  It may not feel as exciting as a live show in Fremont or a juerga in Pioneer Square, but it's important.  Saturday night was a turning point and made me feel like a "regular" person again in many ways, but I also would never take back the "motherhood" piece of my identity that I now have forever.  I am still getting over the shock that the Saturday night date happened.  There is hope.