A Night to Remember

We went out last night.

I put on my red dress, some slightly-too-sexy-for-my-personality stockings, and heels. I love my dress. It's got a huge bow on the side so I look like a Christmas present. Unfortunately that bow needs to be redone every time I wear the dress, so I end up spending 5 minutes on hair, 10 minutes on makeup, and a full 45 minutes trying to get the damn bow right. It's worth it though. I looked at least 200% better than normal. Huzzah!

So, gussied up to the nines, and with the children (similarly gussied) in tow, we headed out to a wine and cheese night. Being a breastfeeding enforced teetotaler I had firm plans to eat my ticket price in cheese.

The night was crisp and cold, the wine was flowing, and the guests were all stunning in their suits or cocktail dresses. We stood on the lawns under the stars and talked with good friends. The girls played in the dark, running, chasing and occasionally jumping off the stone terrace to the soft grass below. (Peanut was being a "dooper-hero".)

When the kids got hungry we headed into town to pick up takeaway, then rushed home into our tracksuit pants and had a lounge picnic in front of a Disney movie.

But although this was all very lovely, something was off kilter for me. The evening finally cemented for me that I am a homebody.

I love cooking our meals from scratch instead of buying takeaway. I like the variety and flavour of takeaway, but I don't think it is more convenient (it takes so long to get, I can rustle up something just as unhealthy in half the time) and the cost and the slightly ill feeling the next morning tend to outweigh the positives. It makes me feel wasteful and a wee bit sick. (But that might just be the laksa, it's kind of... spicy. If you know what I mean.)

And I like having family nights at home, where we all eat at the table and talk, then have some raucous family play (Hide and Seek! Running Races!) before the girls get bundled off to bed on time. And I love that Mr A and I can then spend quality time ourselves.

I guess realisations of this nature are just part of growing up (I've still got a way to go). But every so often I forget and start to whinge to poor Mr Accident about how he never takes me anywhere... So I wrote this post to remind myself: You like home, Mrs A!

In other news, Pansy the Puppy comes next weekend (squee!), the hens are laying an egg each a day (or maybe one is a superhen, I'm not sure), and commenter of the week is (drumroll please) **gartcott!!** for her poetry skills. Well done, gartcott!

Enjoy your Sunday, gentle reader, I will be Switching Off as usual. See you all Monday!