Dinner Dates

When I was a little girl, I pictured a house pretty much like this one (only Bookgirl and Diosa lived in the houses to either side) and I dreamed of being a hostess. It was a grand dream.

In the spirit of that dream, I collected china, chargers, candlesticks, place cards, and individual salt & pepper shakers. I also collected cookbooks, all with good intentions. But what do we know about the road to Hell, people?

Yup. I'm responsible for at least a measured mile of that paving.

You see, I never pictured the part where the hostess coordinates schedules, anticipates conflicts, or caters to Kosher vegans with a hatred of spicy food, tomatoes, and garlic. I never pictured the part where I planned, shopped, prepared, set, and cooked. I just pictured myself being toasted with the best wine, in the beautiful glow of candlelight, with a scrumptious meal before me and delightful company all around.

I also never pictured cleaning up after the party. Or guests who are having so much fun that they linger until sunrise.

But.

Even if I were never to play hostess again, which clearly won't happen as I am hosting a party inside of two weeks, but even if, I would still have the delight of being a guest.

I love being a guest. To host is really just a polite way of ingratiating oneself into a return invitation, is it not? Oh, I look forward to those evenings when all I have to do is show up with an appropriately-priced bottle of wine and a smile.

I always bring my best smile.

But lately, things have been more complicated. I blame Secret Lulu.

You see, in order for me to really enjoy being a guest, Secret Lulu had better not be invited. Secret Lulu really should be at home rough-housing with a babysitter so that by the time my evening is over, I have nothing more to do but peek in on my dreaming cherub and sleep until 9 o'clock the next morning. But the key ingredient to that pet plan is a babysitter and that is where dinner dates start to get complicated.

Maybe I've seriously deluded myself, but I truly believe there was a time when someone would call or send an email asking if Mr. Poppins and I would like to attend such-and-so and we would raise an eyebrow at each other, shrug, and say sure, just as easy as you please.

These days there are considerations: to bring or not to bring Secret Lulu? I don't know: what time is it, is she cranky, will there be a dog?

And if we should decide to leave Secret Lulu at home, will the babysitter be available? Will the people extending the invitation be amenable to our sitter's schedule or will they believe that an invitation for Saturday at eight o'clock should stand rather than being renegotiated to Wednesday at six? Will we decide that having friends is really just too much work?

Now there are a few friends--angels, really--who are content to come to my house, eat some pizza, put on their pajamas while I put Secret Lulu to sleep, and then hang out and drink wine until bedtime, at which point they mosey over to the guest room and call it a night so I don't even have to worry about how drunk I got them. I adore those friends. Child-free friends, of course.

Then there are the darling friends who have the courtesy to have a child around the same age and on about the same schedule as Secret Lulu. These friends are great: they always have beige food (toddler's love beige food), and child-safety locks on the cabinets. These friends also always keep the wine flowing, because they know how important that is to the parents of a young child.

But people who don't have children the same age or aren't willing to be treated to an evening boasting the social pomp of a six-grade sleepover, well, those people are hard to make plans with because the expectations are just too high. Even when the expectations are actually quite low.

So, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah: dinner plans. About that. We'll take a raincheck until Secret Lulu is old enough to be our designated driver. But once that day comes, we're all in.

Comments

[Liz]

Poppins! You have a Wii? Can I come over? i would have one too, if there were any available anywhere! Seriously, why dont they just make enough the first go round?

Dinner dates. Your talking to the queen of all friends with no kids. I really think a variety of babysitters is key. I have all types. And of course the answer is not to bring Secret Lulu, shes happier in her own home anyway and your happier drinking knowing that shes home and happy, right?

[Bookgirl]

I would seriously consider a trip to San Diego just for a Dance Dance Revolution marathon.

[Diosa]

When you have two boys, the decision is made for you. No one wants you to bring your kids unless they specifically invited them. Most nights, I don't even have the energy to want to go out. Pizza, wine, netflix? Yeah, my date night's complete. Well, almost, but we won't get into that.

[hthr]

I'm not sure how I found my way to your blog, but I always get a good laugh or "mm hmm" in agreement out of it! :)

I once saw a sign that read, "I don't mind cleaning dirty dishes after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends" which is a lovely thought, but ... on day 4 of not finding my countertop after the fact, I realize, I DO MIND. I mind very much. I try to weigh the options... $40 to a babysitter just so I can go child-less to dinner gives me a headache. Fortunately for our dinner bill, it also suppresses my appetite.

[Polly Poppins]

Liz, I got the Wii for Mr. Poppins for last Christmas. Actually, my very good INFP friend stood in line at 5am and bribed somebody for me in order to get it. It was the most difficult item I never had to procure. So sure, come over.

Bookgirl, let's throw down. We've got two dance pads so you won't even have to wait for your turn.

Diosa, sounds lovely.

hthr, welcome and remember, real friends don't mind if you order take out and use paper plates.

[bitsy parker]

Been missing you. Have kept up sporadically, but haven't commented.

If you lived in Austin, I would invite you to bring Secret Lulu to dinner. Of course, dinner would be served at 4:45 pm because the 7:00 pm bedtime must be adhered to.

About that Dance Dance Revolution...I've heard of it, which means I'm in a different demographic.