Hallo-weenie

I became That Person last night.

Pete wanted to go to the local pub to hear his friend play music; I wanted to go to my best friend's Halloween party. Truth be told, I wanted to do both. Pre-baby, we would have done both. We decided to split the difference. Pete went to the pub from 9-11, and I went to the party from 11:30-1:30.

I don't know if it was worth it.

First of all, the costume of "New Mom Who Does Not Have Time to Put Together a Costume" was not that big of a hit. I felt like a loser at a party where my friends looked like this:I love Halloween. Used to be, back in the day, the four of us would get together something fabulous, like this:Things change. I did not know most of the people who were there, some of the people who do know me did not recognize me because of the short hair, and when I tried to talk to people, all I could seem to come up with was a vomit of baby talk that no one really wants to hear, unless they currently have a baby.

What do people talk about, anyway? They gossip; they discuss work; they talk about new things in their lives. I have no gossip; I am not working; there's nothing new to talk about. Or, people talk about what they love. In no particular order (except for the first one), I love my husband, my family, my girlfriends, my cats, writing, knitting, gardening, politics, Fluevogs, drawing, the mountains, laughing just because someone else is, and holidays. And now, my son. The list could go on and on, but suffice to say there are many things I love. I am an interesting, purposeful, and oft-times amusing person. Or I was.

I felt like a dork in my street clothes, looking all normal, so I would start to explain why I was not dressed up, and then I would hear myself "Oh, I have a new baby, so I don't have time to blah blah blah blah blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," and my words would trail off as I realized "No one cares about this. Stop talking. Stop talking. Remember when you were fun?!" And then I all inside my head, thinking how stupid I sound, and I can't think of anything to say.

At one point, I was sitting alone in the livingroom because everyone else was outside on the porch where the kegs were, and almost everyone was smoking. I can't be around the smoke because 1) I hate it, and 2) I can't bring second hand smoke home to the baby.

So there I was, alone on the couch, in my normal clothes on Halloween, thinking I should just go home. Being out is a combination of feelings. I want to get away, but not long into it, I miss the baby, and I want to come home. I don't have much to talk about aside from the baby, as I mentioned, or politics, and I know better than to bring up either in mixed company. It would have been better if Pete had been with me. Most things are. We'll get there, but for now, it's probably better for people to just stop by and visit us.

At home, I am supposed to be a dork.