Tonight, Daddy Low's boss organized dinner for the team and their partners. And it was a strictly no-children affair.
All these thoughts went through my mind, but I decided not to be pessimistic and did my online search anyway for a childminder/babysitter as well as asked frens for recommendations. Nobody had any and while my search unearthed a few names, I knew I would feel more comfortable if they came with references.
Just when I was ready to give up the idea of attending, a fren from London agreed to come up and help. And the fact that Julien is familiar with him gave me much assurance. As the reality of the dinner sank in, I suddenly realised how far removed I had become from the whole idea of dressing up for a nice dinner. What would I wear? How about accessories? Which handbag? And was suddenly worried that I may feel awkward holding a small dinner handbag as compared to the spacious baby bag that I have grown so used to. And touch wood that I don't wobble on my heels and stumble in them!
Anyway, I proceeded about my preparations for dinner. I put in my menu choices for the dinner, went for a haircut, then came face-to-face with the reality of my ample post-partum figure... As I rummaged through my wardrobe for a suitable dress, my enthusiasm slowly became gloom, as dress after dress was rejected, because I couldn't zip up and if I could, I couldn't breathe and if sleeveless, my arms looked flabby etc etc... Sigh, I do have some more way to go before I recover my pre-pregnancy figure.
Only 2 dresses made me comfortable and they were odd choices indeed - a long vintage slinky dress and an expensive maternity evening dress. Interestingly enough, I have never had the courage to wear the former, because the pre-pregnant Me just felt that I ought to have a lot less fat to wear something so femininely sexy. And yet, now, after popping a baby, I suddenly felt that a little bit of roundness on my tummy seemed justifiable and possibly cute??? (Dun ask me how that squares with my unhappiness over flabby arms in the previous paragraph) In the end, I went for the maternity dress, and only because now that I have lost my bump, it is a lot roomier and works out perfectly by giving the illusion of an even slimmer me. And happily thought to myself - the expensive maternity dress is worth every penny after all! Haha!
My fren came and after going through with him Baby's habits and where we keep the baby necessities, I went on chatting happily until he interrupted me and asked me when exactly we need to leave, how far away is the restaurant, how long I need to prepare... and then told me that I ought to go change. Haha, he definitely has more experience about babysitting for a night out than me! I am so out of touch!
I went up and got ready. I must say it felt a bit surreal, as I put pn my dress, did my make-up, chose my accessories, picked an evening handbag and put on a hint of perfume for the finishing touch. I have done this thousand of times, but now, the newness of it all made it feel like it is the very first time I am prettying myself up. How motherhood can take the freshness out of a girly girl!
So, Daddy Low and I stole away. I did not want to see Julien before I leave, in case he cries or in case I back out. And in the car, I was once more sitting in the front passenger seat, after having been relegated to the back seat beside Julien in his car seat all this while. As the car sped off into the night with just two of us, all dressed up for a fancy dinner, I felt light, liberated and a bit heady. I was on an adventure, an escapade, my whole being humming at the sensation of tasting a forbidden thrill (oh yes, a little bit of guilt as the mummy in me stole into my thoughts at times).
And before I knew it, I had gone through 3 glasses of wine and was happily engaged in airy chatter. When I finally remembered to check my phone for messages, I was one hour late for my fren's text that said all was well and Julien had fallen asleep... in my mind, a little mummy voice rebuked me for forgetting my baby before the fine-dining me stepped in and said, "Hey, mummies are entitled to some non-mummy time and enjoyment too!"
When we left the restaurant, it was minutes away from midnight and I was astonished, having believed at the onset of dinner that it would end after 2 hours as stated in the invitation - we are after all, all parents with a babysitter at home awaiting our return that evening. Going by the laughter and warm handshakes and hugs before we parted, we had all enjoyed being just adults out on a dinner, having shed and left our parent selves at the door.
When we reached home, Julien was still asleep and our fren reported that he had not stirred once since going down at 8.30pm. Looks like going for dinner as child-free adults can be painless after all. I guess we can start looking for a reliable, regular babysitter for future escapades!
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