Going to the Club

In college I did my fair share of partying, clubbing and bar hopping.  Now that I am a mom of twins, the club I go to is a health club.  Even though my life is very different from when I was in college, I noticed some similarities.  Here is a comparison of going to the clubs in college verses going to the club now.

In college 1995:  I look over at the clock and notice it is 7:00 p.m.  I turn the stereo volume to full blast as I slowly thumb through the clothes in my closet.  During the next 45 minutes I try on ten different combinations of tops and bottoms. I hear a knock at the door.  My friends arrived with pizza and drinks.  We causally eat our meal and discuss the plans for the evening.  After finishing, we check ourselves out in the mirror before heading out the door.

At 10:30 p.m. we arrive at the club.  I wave hello to the other “regulars” and strike up a conversation with one of them.  With drinks in hand, we make our way to the dance floor.  Our arms and legs move in beat to the pulsating music.  Hours pass by as we continue to dance.  Suddenly a strange looking man is walking straight towards me.  I quickly turn to my friend and pretend to be engrossed in conversation.  My plan of avoiding this person is futile. He is right in front of me.  Fortunately the club is closing.  I hear a bouncer call out, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” I round up my friends.  We make our way back to the dorm.

Present day 2007: I hear two screams from the next room.  I struggle to open my eyes.  I barely read the numbers on the clock since I am still half asleep.   It is 7:00 a.m.  I quickly roll out of bed and throw on the first outfit I see.  When I reach the other room, my twin toddlers are jumping up and down in their cribs.  Once released, they run over to their Backyardigans stereo and turn the volume full blast.  During the next 45 minutes I chase my children around the room in an attempt to diaper and dress them.  Some how I manage to bring them into the kitchen for breakfast.  I quickly scarf down my meal so I may assist my brood.  After we finish our breakfast, I spend the next 30 minutes chasing them around the house trying to put on their shoes and jackets. 

We arrive at the health club at 10:30 a.m. My children enter the babysitting room.  With my bottled water in hand, I make my way to the aerobics room.  I wave hello to the other “regulars” and strike up a conversation with one of them.  My arms and legs move in beat to the pulsating music.  Halfway through the class I notice a babysitting room staff person heading in my direction.  I think to myself, “Please don’t come for me.  Please let me just finish this class!”  My prayers go unanswered since the woman informs me that my child is in need of a diaper change.  After changing the diaper, I realize the babysitting room is about to close. I can almost hear the staff shouting, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here”.  I gather up my kids and head home.           

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