This week while Facebooking (I will stop writing about my unhealthy obsession with Facebook when it stops being such a stalker-friendly, totally amazing time-suck), I read a status update about booking a last-minute trip to Florida. And I thought That's what my life needs! More last-minute travel plans! What an instant happiness boost and stress reliever! Oh wait... I have a child.
That's right, Cool Parents: "Last Minute" no longer exists once you have a baby. Think of all the factors that need consideration: babysitters, bedtimes, diaper bags, hangovers...
A few summers ago, Carrie Underwood was performing in my Nowhere city. I got a phone call 3 hours before the show with the offer of a free ticket. Now, you'd better bet your Baby Daddy that I immediately went into Spastic Mom overdrive. I was NOT willing to miss this show. And wouldn't you know, my entire family (read: free babysitters) was busy. I was thisclose to ringing my neighbor's doorbell and leaving my kid on their porch. (Don't worry. Sanity kicked in once I remembered that said neighbor's nickname is Pervy Pete, due to his loitering outdoors when I sunbathe. Sidenote: Yelling "Hey Mama, lookin' good!" when I am 1) in the semi-privacy of my own backyard and 2) enjoying 30 child-free minutes, is a surefire way to make me go all Jersey Shore on you.)
And what happens when you become aware that you can no longer accept Last Minute plans? You get a little too comfortable in your role as a parent. Example? A few weeks ago a (child-free) friend called on a Saturday night from a restaurant, saying I just HAD to join them right away. My first thought was But there's a new iCarly on tonight! And my sweatpants are so comfy!
This is what my weekends have become: couch, laptop, and iCarly with the kiddo. (There may or may not be a bottle of wine involved. That Spencer is so much cuter post-Pinot Grigio. Also? It helps me mourn my Before Baby life just a little less.) And I'm really okay with this.
But when I get jealous of those people making their last minute travel plans? I put on some high heels with my jammies and have a dance party with the kiddo. (Is it bad that I've made a little boy think that Beyonce is the answer to all life's problems? He recently said to me: "Mommy, it's okay. Just put your Freakum Dress on.")