I slipped on my beloved stilettos and new dress. Brushed the girl's hair and coordinated their outfits to match down to their shoes. I checked over Jay and handed him a five dollar bill. "Ready, kiddos?" I asked. "Let's take a picture to show Daddy in Cleveland." I was without husband under my parent's roof in Chicago.
There was no way that my father alone was able to look after my three children on Sunday. Instead, I entrusted him with just my first born for the day. They had no specific plans of meeting my younger brother somewhere downtown and "hanging out." Men, heh. The girls and I had very specific plans which included accompanying my mother to my best friend's baby shower at a bistro. Actually, the place was a very swanky bistro in the heart of uppity Chicago.
Although the girls were very well behaved for the shower in a swanky bistro in the middle of the uppity city I remembered the reason for always hiring a baby sitter and leaving the children behind, for every single social event that I/we am/are invited too.
I give to you, in no particular order, three reasons why next time I will just hire a sitter.
Reason numero uno...
The 23 month old potty trained toddler just might, perhaps, maybe decide to go potty next to the gift table located in front of the fifty or so classy guests:
The nearly five year old self proclaimed artist just might, perhaps, maybe decide to draw "sweet little babies" all over the white table cloth with the crayons the waitress gave her at the baby shower:
With a wet toddler and mischievous nearly five-year-old, we were one of the firsts to leave the baby shower. Driving home to my parent's house I silently wished I had enough faith in both my father and brother to watch all three kids while I lunched alone with old girlfriends. And so. I called my father.
"Where are you guys? It's so loud."
"We are at a SPORTS BAR. We are eating chicken wings." My father hollered over the phone.
I smiled at the image, that I had created in my head, of the three boys devouring their beloved wings at a sports bar. I gave myself a pat on the back for having the foresight of handing Jay a five dollar bill for the video games that he so enjoys at the establishments that serve wings.
And. Reason numero tres (Of why next time I'll just hire a sitter)...
Photographic evidence from my father's digital camera: