I had never met my freshman college roommate before we lived in the dorm together. She was awesome and had so many unique views on life that I still keep with me today. She loved music. She played the viola (called it her fiddle), enjoyed classical music, and also had a cd collection that ranged from Tori Amos to Korn, and a lot of everything in between. But it was all "pretty music." "I like pretty music," she would smile, whether her ears were ringing from headbanging or putting her viola back in her case. It makes me grin just to type it.
The venue was small, and the kind that I have only seen on tv. Small tables with candles, up close and personal, wine in a glass bigger than anything I own at home. They sounded right on. Interesting banter, some songs I knew, some that I didn't. It was late (by my current standards, anyway), I was out, and I loved every minute.
Getting to that point took some planning, as all things do when you're a mom. My son got to spend the night with his Aunt and Uncle, and while he is old enough that I no longer feel stressed about someone else taking care of him, I still had the general parental stress that just comes with the job when you hand over your child and hope they don't do something crazy. Waking up without an alarm or a stuffed animal in my face, with the sun shining brightly in the room, was very, very strange. But good strange. And instead of being sad that the night out was over, I was charged up from the relaxation and enjoyment of the night and excited to go and see him again. I also was pleasantly surprised that I felt no guilt for being out and spending me time. That is new for me. The night out came in the midst of a full weekend of various family activities, so that probably helped. A little me time sandwiched in between a lot of non-me time. Further proof that it is all about balance. Too much of anything, except maybe chocolate, is never healthy.
I like pretty music.