One of the ways that I've learned to embrace my new role as a desperate housewife is to both throw and attend many parties. I have little packages of goat cheese in the cheese drawer and white wine chilling in the repaired refrigerator. I'm cool with sitting in front of the computer for hours and then parenting until dinner time, if I can get my drink on over the weekends. I'm not proud.

Last weekend, I went out to Brooklyn for a baby shower for an old friend. Steve needed the car to take Jonah to a soccer game, so I went old school and took public transportation. Two and a half hours later, I got to the party. Brought back all sorts of lovely memories of taking the subway back from Brooklyn, grad-school parties at 2am. It would usually take about three hours and half that time was spent doing the pee-pee dance on a deserted subway platform, while squinting down the tunnel for the headlight of the A train.

During one of those long waits on the platform, I accepted a dare and jumped off the platform and put a small wind up toy on the rails.

It was a great party filled with people that I haven't seen in ten years, though it felt like only a week had passed. Steve showed up with the boys and planted them in front of the TV with all the other academic spawn. The kids stayed out of the way and we assured each other that we hadn't aged a bit.

It's so nice that our kids have finally calmed down enough to bring them to adult parties and ignore them.
Brings to mind this wonderful sketch by January Jones on Saturday Night Live. Her advice on kids at parties? "Wake up the children. Have them parade around the room in a single line. Then put them back to sleep until the next party."

http://www.hulu.com/embed/2VI1Sh5FqSJwG9Yx4P-uVg