unsociable

If I were someone else, I wouldn't invite me to a party. No, I take that back. I wouldn't invite Miles to a party. And that means not inviting me. Neither one of us. At least not for a while.

With the many holiday parties and family get-togethers in the last few weeks, I've slowly come to the conclusion that Miles and I are (together) extremely lame party guests. Don't get me wrong, Miles is (in my humble opinion) so very, very cute and quite well behaved. He laughs, smiles, eats party food, plays well with other children, etc. He does everything you would want a sweet little munchkin to do at a party. But, he has now reached that (hopefully brief) stage where he wants to walk. Everywhere. All of the time. However, he can't walk by himself yet, which means I am his right hand woman, literally. There to hold his hand whenever he wants to go. Which is ALWAYS. Which means I spend the entire time hunched over, trailing my little squirt around someone else's house, trying to make conversation in the brief moments when I'm not being held captive on the staircase by my son so that he can practice going up and down and up and down. I am living in isolation. Even though I'm there, at the party, trying to be social, I don't have enough brain power to focus on and meet the needs of my one year old while simultaneously discussing the state of our country's economy, or what changes need to be made to our health care system, or even what I made for dinner the other night.

So, I usually end up walking around with Miles, just the two of us, practically joined at the hip. It's just easier that way. We have our own conversations, mostly one-sided, as you can imagine. Sometimes we sit down by ourselves and play with toys while the adults are chatting in the other room. Sometimes we're joined by other kids and/or dogs. And then I really start to feel the burn, like I've traveled back in time to when I was eight years old and I'm sitting at the kiddie table again.

I hope this phase doesn't last too long.