Free at last, not so much

So I was out both Monday and Tuesday night this week. The first for my writing class and the second for a reading. The writing class was held on a different day from our usual time and there wasn't space available at Grub Street, so we met next door at a restaurant/bar. The second night meetup was a reading that happened to be at a bar too.

So there I was, bar hopping two nights in one week, one right after the other, just like the old days. Then Wednesday night rolled around and I felt a little down. It wasn't as much the scene or the drinks (there were only a few) or any of that, but the freedom of even having the choice to do it, that I found myself missing. The freedom I had before having children.

Girlie will be nine in March. I can still clearly remember, one evening very shortly after bringing her home from the hospital, thinking wow, I can't just get up and walk out of the house by myself right now. And it's not just the big nights, like the ones this week, which now require a babysitter or some mass evacuation level coordination with Hubs. It's the little nights. Like realizing at 10 PM while programming the coffee maker that I have run out of half and half. Kids tucked in upstairs, Hubs out of town, so I'll be drinking black coffee in the morning. I hate black coffee.

Yes, these are selfish desires, and it's probably worse for me lately because Hubs has been traveling for work so much. It's one of those things where I can step outside myself and see a list of reasons why it is okay, even good, that my life is this way.

But, nine years already. I wonder when I'll get over it.