It's Party Time?

Today at the zoo I saw a mom wearing a shirt that said "Party Today, Confess Tomorrow."

Seriously? 

What kind of a mother wears a shirt that says this?  Is she trying to avoid play dates?  She had two kids, when does she find the time to party?  To whom is she confessing?  Does she tell the whole truth or is this day-after confession just as shady as her previous night's activities?  And how, exactly, does she define "party"?

The P word (don't want to say it too loud just in case Lou is in earshot, which she ALWAYS is, possibly even while she sleeps, it's a crazy osmosis-like process) took on a whole new meaning once Lou was in the picture. 

Party suddenly meant an alcohol free gathering, between the hours of one and four pm, made up of women who wanted nothing more than to share their wealth of maternal wisdom and give me all the things I "absolutely can't live without during baby's first year!" or things that were just "SO CUTE!" they couldn't resist buying.  The spiked punch was replaced with a concoction of fresh squeezed lemonade dotted with drowning fruit.  Finger sandwiches and salads lined the walls and there wasn't an ashtray in sight.  No more drunken darts.  Instead we cut string in an attempt to guess the girth of my ever expanding middle and sampled baby food, guessing what former food had been mashed to create it.     

Party slowly evolved to include birthday parties.  Not the last minute, uncoordinated get-togethers I had been attending not so long ago, but full fledged kids' parties complete with inflatable jumpy and face paints.  They start at ten in the morning and we need two days to get back to normal.  Not because of anything we put in our bodies, but because of the energy exerted by them. 

Maybe I need to get out more often, but it seems that the parties I remember from my past are fewer and farther between.  Now when I hear the word Party my first thought is something along the lines of, "what the hell do you buy a three year old boy?" or "how much do you think they spent on THIS setup?" instead of, "what should I wear?"

We've got a party tomorrow.  And yes, it will be one hell of a shindig, there's going to be fire trucks and cake. 

But really, when your world revolves around someone who's forearm is about the size of your hand what more do you want?

Of course I still want to party like an adult.  And, I'll admit it, I sometimes do.  But I don't advertise it and I have no desire to.  There comes a time- in theory it happens before you have that second kid- where you realize you have to grow up.  Party doesn't revolve around you, it's not for or about you.  And that's not just ok, that's how it should be.

You're a mother now, so save the T-shirts printed with sayings for the childless set.  They have less to lose if anyone finds out about the previous night.

As for me, I'm keeping my "adult parties", and confessions, to myself.