My parents married young and started their family right away. By the time they were 30, they were the proud parents of four adorable children (the second child was particularly cute). At that time they had a group of friends, all married couples who had decided to wait until after they had turned 30 to start their families. I can remember going to their houses for parties and marveling at how tidy they were (no toys) and at how nice their furniture was (double income, no kids = leather sofas). And I can remember feeling extremely self-conscious as we arrived at their house, all of us kids with our hair brushed neatly and in our Sunday best. Jokes were made about how many of us there were. They called us The Tribe and made silly jibes about my father’s virility. And then we were shuffled into a room at the back of the house where a television had been set up for our entertainment. At the time I was embarrassed about being so many.

I hadn’t thought about those parties until recently when my husband was invited to go over to a friend’s house for a barbecue. The invitation came via text message to his mobile phone, a brief note to let him know that anytime after 3pm would be fine, and bring some beer. We didn’t have specific plans for our Sunday afternoon but when he told me about it and said he wanted to go, I hesitated for a second.

The friend is one of a handful of slightly younger guys that my husband knows. I know them too, they’re The Lads, and they include my husband’s younger brother. Up until recently none of them were married and only a couple had girlfriends. So barbecues at one of the Lads’ houses was always a boys-only kind of deal. Fair enough, I’ve never had any problem with my husband having his own friends, in fact I encourage him to spend time with them. And they’re all really lovely guys.

In the last few years, though, the Lads have been finding girlfriends and getting married. The barbecues have continued, and sometimes the wives and girlfriends get to go along. I have never been, I’ve always stayed at home to babysit our kids. There has never been any discussion about this, it’s just what happens. And up until that day, back in July, that didn’t bother me. But it got me thinking about the rules regarding barbecues with the Lads, now that the Lads included a smattering of wives and girlfriends.

When he told me about the barbecue I suddenly had this image of all of us arriving at the party, coming into the backyard through a side gate and seeing all the couples standing around - the men around the fire, the women in deck chairs in the shade - and looking over to us and being surprised to see me there, and even more surprised to see our daughters. There would be comments about how big the girls are getting. About how nice they look in their dresses. And the girls would feel a bit awkward and conspicuous because there weren’t any other kids and there wasn’t even a trampoline.

My husband was being invited to a casual Sunday barbecue, but nobody was specifically extending the invitation to his family, and that bothered me a bit. Knowing these Lads as well as I do, I doubt they would mind if we all showed up as well. But they’re guys - it doesn’t occur to them to actually ask. And my husband is happy to go along by himself because, well, that’s what he’s always done. And I’ve always been OK with that. But now, all of a sudden, I want to be recognised as part of a package deal; when you invite my husband you get his family, too.

Maybe the thing that bothers me is that part of me really wants to go along to these barbecues as my husband’s wife, and the other part of me wants to stay home with the kids because all those girlfriends? They’re ten years younger than me and have yet to discover the transforming effect a couple of kids will have on your butt. And of course the fact that I wouldn’t subject my kids to an afternoon barbecue at a house with no toys. Ah-ha! That’s it! I’m still angry at my mother for dragging us along to all those boring parties where we spent the night in an end room with the television, in the years before VCRs, watching The Towering Inferno. I still have nightmares about that.

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