13 Jul 2013

A neighbor recently quipped that with one kid you still go out and about your normal pre-kid life. With two kids, you just never leave the house. On some level I would totally agree with this. The whole logistics of getting two kids in the car, getting where you want to go and then having a good time is complicated. With one kid, you go to a party and you can tag-team kid duty. One person drinks and yucks it up while the other one keeps an eye on the child and out of other adults’ hair. You can either split the party in 30 minute intervals or one person’s on-call one night and the other person the next night. With two kids, you can both very quickly end up being stuck managing kid-expectations and miss the party side of the party all together.


Up until now, though, the biggest hindrance to my reemerging partier has been the lack of anything to wear. I ate a healthy 47 pounds worth of root beer floats during this pregnancy and my body has decided to follow the nine months to gain / nine months to lose principle. I’m one size over all my pre-pregnancy clothes right now and I just can’t bring myself to go and buy party clothes one size over where I want to be and where I have tons of clothes available. The clothes that do fit are all perfect, Austin-appropriate party clothes but I’ve discovered that neither the weather nor the social mores of Seattle are conducive to my Austin slinky summer dresses. Thus when recently asked to attend a work party with my husband, the babysitter that was not available was also the last called.


But clothes or no clothes, summer has made it vividly clear that one cannot sit at home with two children for extended periods of time. This Fourth of July we decided to defy the second child adage and celebrate our nation’s freedom birthday in a super dangerous-for-kids place – a rooftop terrace in the middle of the illegal firework warzone of Seattle.



And defy we did. The party was a success. Within an hour of our arrival, Jannik fell asleep in the stroller in a bathroom far from the explosions and excitement of the evening and after several reminders and a couple of times spent thinking, Anabelle stayed away from the railings of the rooftop. I had about four glasses of wine too many, significantly decreasing my stress levels, and Henric had four glasses too few, greatly improving his helpfulness.


Around midnight, we packed up and headed home – and on to the evening’s biggest trial. We went to the same party last year and learned the hard way that leaving our neighborhood (the epicenter of Seattle’s sanctioned Fourth of July celebrations) is easy; returning home at the end of the night in a bus or car is impossible. This year I had the fantastic idea that we bus it to the party and just walk home. It’s only 1.8 miles door-to-door. Sure, it’s straight uphill pretty much the whole way and I plan all my runs to specifically avoid that hill but it’ll be fun! The crowds will make it tough to take the double Bob so we’ll just put Anabelle in the single Bob and I’ll carry Jannik in the Ergo. No problem! Hand me another glass of wine!


It was my clever idea but somewhere at the base of the steepest .65 mile last-stretch climb home, the wine combined with my sweaty Ergo chest and Henric’s sudden zest for exercise got to me. I’ve been working on my anger issues and my general pissed-off-at-life post-partum emotionality, though, and so it is with great pride that I defied all odds of the occasion and made it home in silence.


  • Rae - July 13, 2013

    Wow Melissa, you are one brave lady…I’ve been around your area and/or on the lake for serval 4ths and I would definitely not attempt venturing out and back in thru the madness with 2 littles…glad y ou managed to make it fun!

  • melissa - July 13, 2013

    Thanks, Rae!

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