Party Time vs Toddler time



Katy: She’s pregnant you know!

Social Suicide…

So it’s one of the biggest weekends on the social calendar in the city that I currently call home. Everyone is gearing up for a weekend of sport and high japes, with a few beverages thrown in for good measure. People have arrived from overseas and the party atmosphere is tangible; a good time will definitely be had by all…..or will it?

If you are the owner of a mini me; a small person or ‘toddler’ if you will, you may have to forego these types of events. I’m sure you already know but if you’re a new parent with a lovely pram and a sleeping bundle, you have yet to face the sheer carnage and devastation that a toddler can wreck at a social gathering.

Take last year’s magnificent sporting event for example. I was excited! I wasn’t pregnant…yay! My boy was walking and beginning to talk so surely I could have a chat and  a beverage in the sunshine, whilst watching beefy men in shorts run up and down a rugby pitch? Surely I could let my toddler meander not too far away from me as I looked on in love and awe? Surely I could watch him trying to throw and catch little squishy rugby balls and say a few ‘aahs’ and ‘ooohs’ and ‘look how cute he is’ with my friends? Maybe I could  allow the rays to banish the bluey grey pallor of my skin, whilst sipping a lovely glass of  bubbles?

Or….maybe not!

Maybe I could watch him toddle (pah), full blown RUN away, across the pitch into the incoming herd of destruction!! This of course prompts a mummy into ‘action mummy mode’, and believe me, there’s nothing worse than a bad mum run in the sun! I’ve never been a runner and certainly not in front of men but this kind of embarrassing panic sprint is possibly the worst kind of wobbly mum run ever! It begins slowly, in disbelief, while you shout your little darling’s name repeatedly (and they ignore you repeatedly) , and then the fear sets in and you actually have to move….bad wobbly bra and all!

Maybe after all that excitement and the embarrassed chastisement of your child in front of your friends, where you reassure them that he ‘normally listens to me’ (lie); maybe after that you can just pen him in somewhere and resume your girly chat?

Ok…so you hit upon the idea of penning him in in the stands and boldly go to meet up with your chums. Great idea. So you pick him up and just as you’re getting to the stands where everyone’s having such a great time and they’re all smiling and happy to see you, you catch a whiff of something. Could it be cabbage? Brussel sprouts? Hmmm I didn’t see them selling vegetables this year…….oh god! Oh no!

Oh yes………your special soldier has decided to give you a ‘special present’, all over your: arm; white dress; the ends of your hair!!! A special smeary kind of stinky present that he wanted to share with you on this lovely day…bless him!

This of course put paid to my day out…and his; the conversation died and the bubbles went flat.

The lesson from all of this? Socialise only with others that are in the same boat as you. If you have to bring out the rugrat, then there’s safety in numbers. They can sympathise and they often have back up supplies…and of course there’s always the pleasure that you can derive from watching others struggle with the same stinky scenario!

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