Unlike Cinderella, I was dreading attending the ball.

On Friday night, my husband and I attended the Signal Corps ball in Honolulu. In college, I counted the days until my then-boyfriend came to sweep me away to his military college ball. The gowns, the decorations, the flowers, oh my!

Now, as a mom of five with a pile of laundry as high as my countertops, stealing away for a Friday night was seriously cutting into my chore time.

Not to mention, after five pregnancies in nine years, I don’t exactly fit into the cute little ball gowns anymore. Not a fact I was in the mood to highlight.

And we had to hire a babysitter – two in fact; one to care for our two children on the autism spectrum and another to chase after everyone else.

Once I calculated the cost of the sitters and parking and my $8 soda and the several drinks my husband had (I was afraid to ask the cost) and my not so ball-like gown – well, it wasn’t a night I was looking forward to.

So I did what any tired military spouse does -  I pulled a pair of old shoes out of the closet, powdered on some of my own makeup (and hoped I looked like I was wearing makeup and not that I’d been punched in both eyes), threw a flower in my hair and walked out the door. No salon appointments, no special purchases, no worries.

And you know what, it was ok. No. In fact, it was really fun.

In years past, we attended balls almost immediately after we had moved to a new post. I knew no one. I had no one to sit and chat with, comfortably, while my husband and his buddies ran to the bar. I was miserable.

This time, I knew everyone at our table. I knew people at the table next to us. Heck, I knew people sitting across the room. We laughed. We joked. I got teased for cornering the guest speaker and questioning him like a good reporter does (check back next week for those details!).

We took nice pictures of each other. We took stupid pictures of each other in silly poses. We danced – badly. When the clock struck midnight my feet hurt because I had been up and enjoying the night, not because I had been sitting still in too tiny shoes.

There were young spouses in flowing, glittery dresses. But my friends and I, in our less revealing, glitter-free dresses were just as stunning. There were young soldiers zipping across the dance floor, twirling their girls to the beat. But my husband swaying with me to the music on the side was just as romantic.

We toasted the Army, we toasted the nation and we toasted each other.

And when we pulled into the driveway, I even felt a little like Cinderella.