sticky denim

On Tuesday night, I went out. Yes, out of my apartment, to meet up with actual people, who are doing things other than taking care of children. I met up with my friend Margo and some of her girlfriends to attend a Clinton Foundation benefit. The organization focuses on climate change and other global issues. So now I’m out and I’m actually helping humanity (well, to be honest, it’s my friend Margo who is helping humanity because she bought the tickets) but even so, I still feel like I’m doing my part.

I meet up with these three fun, single women who are all wearing cute, stylish summer dresses or skirts. As soon as I see them, I wonder why I am wearing a pair of jeans on this ninety degree July night. At least I have on a cute top and strappy, metallic heels but I long for a fab BCBG summer dress. It reminds me of the 4^th grade when I wore pants on the first day of school and every girl wore a skirt. Of course, I wore a skirt on the second day of school and you know the end of the tale. Everyone wore pants.

So we get into a cab and immediately these super cool women are on their Trios and Blackberries, googling directions to the Roseland Ballroom and checking emails and texts. Suddenly, my Sprint Samsung phone just seems so dated and shabby. But did I mention it takes photos in color? Despite my very hot (and not in a good way) jeans and my lame phone, I enjoyed connecting with these women and not talking about children. Not once did I chime in with, “My child said the cutest thing…” This along with, “I had the weirdest dream…” causes anyone’s brain to immediately shut down.

I spent most of my twenties going out in New York City with my girlfriends when it was still cool to order a Cosmopolitan – a very “Sex in the City” way of life, although I slept with fewer men than Carrie and her girlfriends. But once you get married and then you have two kids, it’s just hard to cross over into city nightlife. These single women are very free. They can go out for late night dinners at La Bottega at the Maritime Hotel but I have to go home because of a consistent six a.m. wake-up call from my 7 month-old. Maybe some of them yearn to be less free, with a husband and children at home. I don’t really know. I do know that my life is different now, definitely less free but amazing and enriching in other ways. Still, it always feels good to put on heels, jump in a cab and spend an evening on the other side (even in hot, sticky jeans).