Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

After a long summer of dutifully mothering my darling angel, I was given a day off to "play"... sorta speak. Last week, I headed up to Yakima for a day of errands, "shopping" and lunch with friends. Grace was having a fabulous day herself - spending it with Grandma.

Earlier this summer, some friends had asked me to meet them for lunch and I happily agreed. On the day we had agreed to meet, I didn't show up. Not because I didn't want to. Not because an emeregency came up. Because I FORGOT! Baby brain strikes again! How does someone forget something as important as lunch with friends? No excuses but that is what a harvest season will do to a person. During harvest, there are no weekends, there are no holidays, there is no beginning or end of a day. Since that is the schedule Court and I live by all summer, there are times when a day or two slips by unnoticed. Factor in day after day of caring for an infant (who at the time didn't like to regularly nap OR sleep through the night) and maybe you can see how a mother like me might forget about a scheduled event. Not until several hours after our luncheon had passed, did I see the flurry of emails in my inbox about my absence. I felt horrible. It's not like me to just not show up. I at least have the courtesy to call and give some bogus excuse about why I can't be there.

So upon discovering that I was going to have a day to myself, I immediately lined up a chance to redeem myself with this particular group of friends and set up another lunch.

Don't get me wrong. I love staying home with Grace and wouldn't change that for anything, but I was REALLY excited for a "day off," not to mention a day off with friends. For the first time in weeks, I had a reason to not only brush my hair but put on makeup as well! I probably changed my outfit a handful of times before leaving the house. That's how excited I was. For the first time all summer, I was all dressed up AND had somewhere to go.

Boy! Oh boy! was lunch fun. I hadn't laughed that hard in quite some time. It was great catching up and sharing stories. I even had a lunchtime brewsky - something I never do...especially while undergoing Operation Butterball. (By the way, I am within 20 sticks of butter of my pre-preggo weight. That said, I am aiming to lose more because things just aren't bouncing back to where they are supposed to be...but that's a story for another day...where was I??)

So a lunchtime brewsky, friends I hadn't seen in a while, lots of laughter...let's just say I was feeling pretty good. Unfortunately, the beer was drained and the food eaten and it was time to settle up. To redeem myself from my earlier no-show, I asked for one check and decided to treat the gang to lunch.

Fast forward what seemed to me like five minutes but what must have been...oh I don't know... a half hour. I spot the little black book that contains the bill. Not having noticed it a moment before, I announce to the table..."Oh the bill!"

Laughter erupts. Confusion (on my part) ensues. I open the black book and much to my suprise, not to mention my embarrassment, the bill has been paid!!

In all my chatter and storytelling... after announcing that I was paying the bill... I stiffed my lunch mates. Upon the realization, I turned a shade of red I don't think I've experienced since middleschool. So now I am a flake and a cheapskate. Strike one and strike two.

It looks like with or without the baby, my social life is doomed. If I bring the rugrat with, I don't get to relax, (probably because my beer intake is drastically reduced) and I spend the whole time bouncing her with one hand while shoveling food into my face with the other. Not pretty.

If I leave the munchkin home, I get a bit 'carried away' with all the grown- up talk, not to mention the grown-up drinks, and I find myself committing social taboos. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, I guess. Althooooouuugh, I did get outta there with a free meal...bad news for my social life, but a win-win for my pocketbook!