But when the time comes, it doesn’t always feel fine. After staying at home all day with a baby, I usually get a mild to moderate case of stir crazy by 5pm. I get excited about seeing which direction the wind might blow us tonight and in my excitement, I forget to consult The Calendar. When I learn that tonight there’s a band practice, or show that I agreed to weeks ago, the wind gets knocked out of me… so to speak, and I end up staying home… again. Between this band, this band, this band, and sometimes (recently) this band and the band for this, I have had a lot of time to contemplate the meaning of life.
Either that happens, or I’m looking forward to a low key evening and realize that I have agreed to make 53 of some obscure thing for some unknown purpose. One way or another, my time tends to get spoken for, even when I chose not to plan it out. It reminds me of budgeting in that if I don’t decide where my money is going, it ends up getting spent anyway.
The moral of this story is: Inviting one out to play is inviting the other to stay (home and do nothing while the baby sleeps)
The other moral (for me) is: plan ahead, instead.
And the final moral: don’t invite my husband to join your band.
*Disclaimer: I love music, I love all of the aforementioned bands, I love my husband, I love my home, and I love my angel baby.