How I came to give myself an uppercut

I had a boys night out a couple of weeks ago. I joined a couple of guys I know well, and a few I'd met on occasions, at one of Sydney's best restaurants for a beer and food extravaganza.

On the face of it this would seem to be my natural environment. Good food, good beer, good mates and a break from the nappies. I should have been itching to get there.

But oddly as the big night got closer I began to feel a little uncomfortable, nervous even.

You see the boys were all professionals with white collar jobs in the city.

And I no longer was a member of that club.

Now I'm 'just' a stay at home parent with a part time job. And I worried I'd wouldn't be able to participate in any meaningful way in a how was your day type conversation.

My dinner companions were daily involved in financial matters. They were, for example, in a position to give real insight as to whether the economy was genuinely in a solid recovery.

Whilst I am involved daily in fecal matters. And the only insight I had to provide went to the input of solids leading to rather ugly outgoings (if you've ever changed a toddlers nappies you'll understand where I'm coming from).

I was so worried that I almost canned the whole thing.

Stupid really.

Because looking objectively at my life it's pretty damn good.

I've got a supportive (not to mention ravishingly beautiful) partner who earns enough to allow me to work part time and care for our son full time. I've got a great little fella to look after - though he has been somewhat testing of late and my part time job involves being paid to watch sport. On top of all that I've just received my post tertiary qualification so I've got external validation that I'm not a dolt.

It's a pretty fair life I'm living.

Having given myself pretty much that pep talk (a mental uppercut if you will) I headed off to dinner, had a grand old time and didn't once feel inadequate or short of things to say.

Then after 4 beers I didn't care a jot whether what I had to say interested my companions because I found myself hilarious.

Those feelings of inadequacy were however somewhat of an insight to how some stay at home parents may feel and why some parents who remove themselves from the work force in order to become full time carers may then remove themselves from their old friends and work colleagues and instead surround themselves with other stay at home parents.

Or I could be projecting my own feelings on to others - perhaps some people love nothing more than talking nappies, poo (or poop as some so quaintly put it) and teething. Who knows.

Either way it was an interesting insight into how much value I had (mis)placed in a job title. And perhaps a bit of a wake up call too.