safety dance

Picture the scene:

Colleague 1 : Fancy a pint?

Me: Nah I've gotta get the kids

Colleague 2 : Coming out for a quick drink?

Me: Nah I've gotta get the kids

Colleague 3 : Any chance of you coming down to the pub?

Me: Nah I've gotta get the kids

My response to these questions has changed immensely as I jumped the chasm between my thirties and forties.

Back in the day I would hang out in the office doing this and that, chatting to him or her and just kill some time. Then, depending on the day, I would either mooch off to the gym for a funky work out at my step class, get a bit of late night Top Shopping or peg it down to the pub 'til the early hours. Even on a school night. Freedom. Back in the day. 

Approaching the sunset of my thirties I longed for that life again; having three children in four years knocked the groove out of me. Friday close of play would see the whippersnappers hurrying into the car-park to find the designated drivers and hitching a ride to the nearest boozer. Friday saw me, with down turned mouth, hoiking a bag of marking home. I know, I know... I had my gorgeous babies to hang out with. But at that time, I just couldn't see it. I felt I was missing out. Sometimes I'd even drive a gaggle of Friday nighters off the pub just to catch a whiff of that freedom. I guess it didn't help that GeordieLad was often out wining and dining clients in London's glossy West End, whilst I tucked into ready meals and hung out with my bestie - Jack Bauer. 

A couple of years into my forties and oh how things have changed. This is not a tale of slowing down and making do; it is a story of accepting where I am right now and enjoying what I have. Moving out of my comfort zone - my old job - and finding  new pace and purpose in life, meaning that I don't hanker for the social life of before. Don't get me wrong I still love a boogie- but I'll be honest, I'm hard pushed to find a decent place to dance these days where I'm not in danger of bumping into a load of my ex-students (or even more frightening, the kids of my ex-students). If anyone knows a place where a forty something can get down on a dancefloor with people from my decade, please let me know! 

My dancefloor 'til the 3G leave home

I choose my nights out carefully - the 3G are still quite young and we're short of babysitters - and I would rather set the world to rights with some close buddies sprawled in my living room than fight my way through a noisy bar, to be stepped on, spilt on and ignored. Now my cleavage is firmly tucked away no-one seems to notice me anymore ... I jest, I jest - they were never, ever on show. Ever. Some of my nights with a bunch of mummy mates can be rowdy, raucous and ridiculous but rejuvenating for the soul. 

And the nights in? At the end of long days on my feet and stuck in long traffic jams I long for these nights in. Especially a Friday. Kids picked up, comfy clothes on, glass of wine, curled up with the 3G in front of a dvd...heaven.  I see the sympathetic look when I turn down an invite to for a swift half but it's all good. I know what's waiting at home.  No rushing around after work, catching lifts, waiting for buses, calling cabs, shivering in an inappropriate jacket because it looked good. Nope I like my creature comforts me, and hanging out with my homey lovelies makes this creature extremely comfortable. At least until someone finds me that perfect dancefloor.

Loving these 40s.