When the hubby and I first moved in together, we lived in an apartment complex down the beach that was a lot like the one from Melrose Place.
Alright so we weren't exactly swapping beds and sleeping with each other's bosses, but we did have a pool in the complex and we had friends that lived in two other apartments as well as friends living across the road and a couple of doors down.
That's kind of like Melrose right?
We were the ultimate neighbourhood party pad and on most nights our couch was occupied by random drop ins.
For the most part we loved having everyone there and the whole party vibe we had going on... except for the mornings after a big night out, when you would wake up to find hungover people strewn across every spare bed, couch or available floor space.
Apart from moving into a bigger house, not much else changed after we got married... well not as far as our social habits went anyway.
For the first 6 years our house remained a designated hangout amongst our group of friends and you were guaranteed to never feel lonely as you could always count on a couple of extra people hanging around to keep you company.
For the first 6 years our house remained a designated hangout amongst our group of friends and you were guaranteed to never feel lonely as you could always count on a couple of extra people hanging around to keep you company.
When our first baby was born, the drop ins stopped.
Just like that... there were crickets instead of door knocks and you could be excused for thinking we stunk or something because no one seemed to want to hang out on our couch anymore.
Granted we were no longer the most fun house to hang out. I mean if you were into cabbage leaves, and breast pumps and midnight feeds rather than jello shots and midnight jam sessions, then we were SO your people, but we no longer carried the party appeal that we used to.
I guess when you haven't had a shower for days and spend your waking hours walking around like a topless zombie because even the lightest cotton shirt is enough to aggravate your poor cracked nipples, you really don't mind so much that no one is arriving unannounced at your door anymore.
I had a few wistful moments over the first few years of being a proper grown up with kids and all.
Those moments generally arrived as I found myself in the kitchen preparing yet another awesome meal of chicken nuggets and mashed veggies and I found myself craving the days of when I would happily throw together a feast fit for kings for our spontaneous guests.
As with most things though - you get over it and these days I am the polar opposite of the eager entertainer I used to be.
Don't get me wrong, I still absolutely love to host dinners and BBQs and nights with the girls, but truth be told - I am no longer all that receptive to the surprise knocks at the door.
In fact if you knock on the door and get no response, try peering through the gap in the curtains and you'll probably see me hiding behind the couch pegging burger rings at the kids in an attempt to keep them quiet for long enough to make you believe that despite the fact my car is parked in the driveway, there's really no one at home.
Damn, I shouldn't have admitted that should I?!
Forget I said that OK - there's really no one home.
I'm not sure what made me change.
I have no idea if it's the fact that I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of you arriving unannounced and interrupting my Real Housewives Marathon couch session, or the thought of you catching me and my unmopped floors and messed up bedhead in my PJs at 3 in the afternoon that bothers me the most.
Maybe I'm just getting old.
Whatever the reason, I have to admit that I'd prefer it if you called before you popped around or at the very least sent me a text so I had ample enough time to consider whether I could be bothered to do the prerequisite 15 minute manic clean before you arrive... or simply decide that I 'won't be home'.
OMG I really am that old person we speak of.
I am no longer the spontaneous entertainer I used to be... but you know what?
I'm ok with that!
Just like that... there were crickets instead of door knocks and you could be excused for thinking we stunk or something because no one seemed to want to hang out on our couch anymore.
Granted we were no longer the most fun house to hang out. I mean if you were into cabbage leaves, and breast pumps and midnight feeds rather than jello shots and midnight jam sessions, then we were SO your people, but we no longer carried the party appeal that we used to.
I guess when you haven't had a shower for days and spend your waking hours walking around like a topless zombie because even the lightest cotton shirt is enough to aggravate your poor cracked nipples, you really don't mind so much that no one is arriving unannounced at your door anymore.
I had a few wistful moments over the first few years of being a proper grown up with kids and all.
Those moments generally arrived as I found myself in the kitchen preparing yet another awesome meal of chicken nuggets and mashed veggies and I found myself craving the days of when I would happily throw together a feast fit for kings for our spontaneous guests.
As with most things though - you get over it and these days I am the polar opposite of the eager entertainer I used to be.
Don't get me wrong, I still absolutely love to host dinners and BBQs and nights with the girls, but truth be told - I am no longer all that receptive to the surprise knocks at the door.
In fact if you knock on the door and get no response, try peering through the gap in the curtains and you'll probably see me hiding behind the couch pegging burger rings at the kids in an attempt to keep them quiet for long enough to make you believe that despite the fact my car is parked in the driveway, there's really no one at home.
Damn, I shouldn't have admitted that should I?!
Forget I said that OK - there's really no one home.
I'm not sure what made me change.
I have no idea if it's the fact that I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of you arriving unannounced and interrupting my Real Housewives Marathon couch session, or the thought of you catching me and my unmopped floors and messed up bedhead in my PJs at 3 in the afternoon that bothers me the most.
Maybe I'm just getting old.
Whatever the reason, I have to admit that I'd prefer it if you called before you popped around or at the very least sent me a text so I had ample enough time to consider whether I could be bothered to do the prerequisite 15 minute manic clean before you arrive... or simply decide that I 'won't be home'.
OMG I really am that old person we speak of.
I am no longer the spontaneous entertainer I used to be... but you know what?
I'm ok with that!
What about you - are you happy for surprise visitors to arrive on your doorstop or would you prefer a phone call first?