Out on the Town

To say I'm not a party girl is an understatement. When I was in high school, I would sit in my mom's bedroom floor and cry because I was home on a Friday night while others were out having so much more fun. I love my mom; I love talking with her and trying on her clothes. We read passages from books and magazines aloud, and my favorite place in the world is at the kitchen table while she cooks.  But, on Friday nights, I forgot that. I wanted to be "out."

I literally did not have a sip of wine (other than the communion stuff) until I was 21. I didn't go to parties. I "rebelled" when I was 22 and working on a master's degree. I went to Florida with my boyfriend (now husband). I didn't drink, and I didn't go crazy. I did buy and wear my first bikini (peer pressure).  I came home tattoo free.  I watched other girls share a bucket--yes a real bucket--of cheap margarita. I was grossed out--the germs!!!!!

I went to Vegas with my two best friends. Nothing happened that needs to stay in Vegas. I scrapbooked the entire trip.

I tried. I would go to clubs with my friends. I found myself awkwardly rejecting offers to dance and other advances. When other girls wore strapless mini-dresses and stiletto heels, I wore pedal pushers with ballet flats.

I am a nerd. A geek. A homebody.

Last Saturday, it was 75 degrees (as I write it is below zero and a blizzard rages, but I digress). We took R.J. to Bass Pro Shop to find a beach ball. He loves a good beach ball--just the right size, and he can kick it straight at the mantle with no risk to mommy's glassware. We ate cheap Italian food--cheese pizza and pasta with red sauce. Toddler fare. R.J. drove the boats at Bass Pro.  We stopped and waved at people riding in horse drawn carriages in Bricktown. I wore jeans and a fleece jacket. When I passed girls my age going out to the steakhouse in their finest satin mini-dresses or girls (old and young) giggling in a herd headed to the clubs, I reached down and ruffled R.J.'s shag. He needs a haircut-always.

Next weekend, I'll find myself at my parents' kitchen table with R.J. at my side. I won't cry. I won't want to be "out." I will be content and know that I have found my place.