Peeping Mom

I’ve never thought of myself as the helicopter mom type who clucks over her children like a mama hen, but it seems like my parenting mantra is “Never say never.”

Last week I got a promotional e-mail for a parents’ night out event at a kids’ play center. It’s a wonderfully well-planned facility, light and bright, run by local parents who seem to know what they’re doing unless they hide the surly teenage workers who bribe kids with Smarties to not take potty breaks. There are tons of things to do, from an art center to two large tree house type play sets. When I realized all the stars were aligned for the day after Thanksgiving (no plans and two parents guaranteed to be tired of family togetherness) I RSVPd for the girls and made dinner reservations for the hubby and I.

We are very fortunate to rely on our parents for free babysitting but we thought we’d splurge. The girls would have a guaranteed blast for four hours, get fed pizza, and watch a movie all while the hubby and I had an adult night out just a few miles away.

For some reason I was nervous about leaving Miss A, not that the child has a shy bone in her body, but I told Miss C she was in charge of looking after her. I was mainly worried she’d be having too much fun to know when to stop and take a potty break. After we signed the girls in and helped take off their coats, Miss C took off exploring and Miss A gave me the “OK, Mom could you just LEAVE?” 3 going on 13 stare. Despite this I still had trouble leaving and kept mumbling things like “Mommy and daddy will be right back” even though no one was listening to me, which is fairly typical. Hubby grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go!”

We had drinks and dinner at a lovely restaurant within walking distance and before heading to the movie we snuck a peek in the play center’s large front window. The girls were in the back happily getting their glam on in the dress up area so we walked quickly to our car before we were spotted. As we made our getaway I looked over and Miss C, in all of her hot pink velvet shirt glory, had practically glued her entire body to the plate glass window, peering out into the night toward our car. Then she looked behind her, said something to the center owner and then looked back out the window and pointed RIGHT TOWARD US.

CRAP! She’d seen us. We took off and the hubby said, “Don’t look…don’t look!”

Later that night when the girls were telling us about all the fun things they’d done, Miss C looked at me and said. “You know what mommy? You know what was really weird? I saw a lady who looked JUST like you out in the parking lot!”

And for once I just kept my mouth shut. There’s a first time for everything.

If You Give A Mom A Hangover


Hubby saying goodbye to Miss C and his dad Saturday night in his parents’ front yard. I love the light.


The weather was perfect.


The bride was beautiful.

The groom was handsome.

The service was inspiring.

The reception was fun.

The music was kickin’.

The food was delicious.

The wine was flowing.

The champagne was plentiful.

The barfing was inevitable.

That’s right. I said the B word.

I can’t remember the last time I got sick from drinking. It has been years. I am a bit of a control freak and I am also a lightweight so typically I pace myself and I sip on water while drinking. I was having such a great time talking with friends Saturday night (we sat with my best friend and her husband and their three adorable boys) that I didn’t think twice about that 10 ounce white wine chaser to the couple of glasses of champagne I’d downed. I was also distracted with the serious moves on the dance floor. There was one guy that I can best describe as Funky Kenny Chesney. He looked amazingly like Kenny Chesney, only he was wearing a backwards baseball cap and channeling MC Hammer.

Back to the barfing. It was thankfully just a little “PLEEZEPULLOVERQUICKIMGOINGTOBESICK” session as we were a few miles from our house Saturday night. I felt pretty decent yesterday morning despite the bedtime pit stop (actually that and the fact that I’d eaten some pasta and bread are probably why I felt OK) and hubby and I even enjoyed a delicious brunch at 100 West here in Nashville, which I cannot recommend enough. The owner even made me a bitters and soda concoction. I love breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, but the 100 West spread makes breakfast at the Cracker Barrel look like an all you can eat buffet at a truck stop. Their cheese grits and shrimp were to die for and there was no end to the fabulous food: strawberry cream cheese filled French toast, blackened tilapia, homemade biscuits, fresh fruit, pasta salad, pastries.

Now back, once more, to the barf. I need to make a public announcement:

Dear local branch of a well-known bank…I’m so sorry your parking lot was christened by a mom who had too much fun on a rare Saturday night out. Yes it was me, your loyal customer, making a very different kind of deposit. Ahem.

Hubby and me (with my birthday purse from the girls.) I think I look a little constipated because we had about 5 minutes to get to the wedding, but I definitely look better than I did just a few hours later….BARFING in a bank parking lot.

Free At Last, Free At Last

The girls left about an hour ago with my mother-in-law to spend the night and won’t be back until late tomorrow afternoon. The hubby and I are going out to dinner to a new sports pub and we’re going to watch the Titans game on TV.

I am home alone.

We are out of beer.

AND wine.

I’m pretty sure that’s a party foul.

Related Posts Widget for Blogs by LinkWithin