Growing up without growing old.

Parenting in the Ward household is reaching new dizzy heights of excellence this weekend.  We seem to be taking it in turns to entertain the kids while the other one lies down in a hungover coma.  Today it is more my turn to bear the brunt of the childcare which means that everyone is having less fun.  They are playing games such as 'put all the bits of lego in the lego box' and 'lay the table' which apparently is not as fun as wrestling their father or playing football!  Spoilt.

It has been a great weekend.  I've been out in town two nights on the trot which hasn't happened since about 1998.  I had a bit of an epiphany whilst throwing some shapes on the dance floor in Havana at about 1am on Saturday: maybe I'm getting a bit old for this shit.

It was my first night out with my new workmates and I was determined to make it a success.  The thing is, with each new workplace I get a little bit older, (I know I'm stating the obvious here, bear with me), and therefore being the life and soul of the party is becoming more challenging.  I wasn't even sure where I should standing in the pub as there were a couple of groupings and I didn't quite fit into either.  The young beautiful people and the older crowd.  Obviously the answer is to down a bottle of rosé in approximately 10 minutes and then you convince yourself that you are still well and truly down with the kids.

As we got to the club some of the people in front of me got ID'd.  'Aren't you going to ask me love?' I drunkenly and un-wittily quipped to the bouncer.  At which point he asked me for photographic ID (as apparently everyone needs it to get into Havana anyway), of which I had none as I had a different handbag on me.  I then had to use every trick in the book to talk my way in without any, holding up the entire group, and suddenly my young beauty began to fade a bit even to me through my rose-coloured-rosé goggles.

I was doing revolting shots at the bar for the rest of the night and shaking my booty on the dance floor with people that I could have technically given birth to.  At 1am my feet hurt, I smelt like an old beer mat and I decided it was time to go home.  I had seriously done my bit at integrating with my new crowd and now it was time for bed.  As I waited outside for a taxi, a load of Beaumont staff were coming INTO Havana and for a moment I thought about turning around and regrouping with them but luckily my one remaining brain cell forced me into a cab.

It was quite a relief last night therefore to go out with really old friends (in the time I have known them rather than their seniority).  We drank nice and slowly after our dinner as we were full and digesting and we all complained about the music being too loud and interrupting our intelligent conversation.  Oh dear.

I'm out on the piss with my Dad tomorrow night who remains the worst influence of everyone I know.  He has started trying to find a younger crowd himself to hang out with as he gets annoyed with people of his age falling asleep and not coming out regularly enough. There is officially therefore no hope for me and I'd better stay in the this current job rather than again trying to prove myself by dancing around my handbag with people half my age when I'm in my forties!