On going out…

January 31, 2014

Recently, a friend asked the question if something was wrong with her because she chose not to go out with her friends for outings.

Now this is something I have struggled with incredibly. I see the expectations everywhere – moms are expected to go out for drinks or girls nights, craft nights, shopping, lunches, dinners or spa days in order to recharge and get away from the families. Especially with social media giving such accessibility to see friends at dances, parties, bars, and concerts. I know Mothers who go away on weekend getaways with friends, leaving the children at home. They drink, dance, relax, enjoy, dine. Now you have to understand what I mean by DINE – as a parent you find yourself eating often enough but when was the last time you truly DINED? (Hmm, this might need to be a whole other post.)

To say the little green eyed monster has never tapped my shoulder over these excursions would be completely lying to you. I am jealous. Jealous of the time, the relaxation, the beautiful people and places my friends get to go. I’m jealous of the laughter and jokes, the dressing up, the FUN of it all – just plain ole jealousy that goes to the core. But what I’m most jealous of is the ability to let go.

Now let me explain – I am far from a perfectionist who needs things done a certain way. If you’ve ever entered my home you know that generally there is a mess somewhere, if not everywhere, there are cluttered countertops, Legos strewn everywhere and enough dog hair to make a Shih Tzu. I am just fine with the messes and clutter, in fact I rather we have a good time that worry about making a mess. Messes can be cleaned up and fixed but moments and memories cannot. What I have a hard time letting go of is my family. When I go out, I end up being tired and worn out the next day, regardless of the fun I had. I just can’t manage the exhaustion. I’m not sure if other children are easier on their parents, or if my tolerance for boy-dom is painfully low but some days it takes every ounce of my being to handle my boys. And going out zaps me of whatever extra ounces I might have had reserved for a rough night, a hard day or just an illness.

Is this terrible? Shouldn’t I be DYING to get out of the house without my troop; running to get out with the girls and chit chat about the world? Shouldn’t I be excited and counting down the minutes to the next happy hour and dolling myself up for the sake of going out? The world seems to think I should be, but I’m not terribly sure.

See, I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to be home with your family. I spent a some time falling in love with this man, making a home and dreaming of the babies that would eventually come. This home, these people – no matter how big or little – are part of my fiber of being. When I leave without them, I feel naked. And the thing is, and this is the kicker, I feel seriously guilty for feeling lost without them. But what is it about not wishing to go out and join the world at girls’ night that is so wrong? Why is this seen as being a “missing out” moment? In my opinion, these years are so short – so fleeting. Is it so terrible to want to be nowhere else but home?

My world is slightly overwhelming and I feel I give everything to keep this going – to be the best version I can be to my boys and husband even when I am feeling far from it. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a girls night out, but rather that I have such a hard time catching up after going out. Maybe as the time goes by I’ll find a better balance in this subject, but for now, I’m happy with my focus on home.


One Response to “On going out…”

  1. Penny Krueger Says:

    I think you made some very good points here, Pia. Even at my age, my greatest pleasure is spending time with my children and grandchildren. What a wonderful blessing they are! It is tough to explain the attraction to friends who do not have grandchildren. They see world travel as the most fulfilling. On my death bed I do not want the company of postcards.

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