Celebration Drink

It's been a gnarly month. But then someone died and left my non-profit a nice generous gift so it looks like I won't totally fail the organization that hired me to raise money for them. At least not this month.

To celebrate, I took a deep breath and invited a girl from work out for a drink.

That came out wrong. We weren't celebrating the death of my generous donor. In fact, the girl from work probably didn't know we were celebrating. But I was shouting all over the inside of my anxious, neurotic self.

Only hitch about my party plan-- I had BB in tow. Now in Chicago, this was no problem. I could take my 1 1/2 year old daughter out just about anywhere give her some cheerios and enjoy a single beer before 7 p.m. bed time.

Two year olds are different. And I forgot to pack a diaper. So we started the evening off with a real bang and I spent most of our chit chat time trying to keep the stink bomb I call "lovebug" away from my almost-friend's smell detector. Then came the dumping of the rice on the floor, closely followed by the scooping of the black beans on my silk skirt.

Friendliness wasn't at aces either. BB wouldn't smile at my friend. She banged her metal spoon on the plate. And she blew our cover by telling me to change her poo poo.

Kind of eroded my credibility from earlier in the evening when I was all braggin' that I haven't let being a mom change my social life-- no, not at all. (Actually true since my social life's best moments from the past five years include ducky slippers and Rooster repeating back the last sentence of my latest monologue to prove he was listening).

It was all sort of awkward-- the trying too hard, the rearranged food, the...perfume. But fun. As was the long soaking bath BB got once we got home.