Hindsight is 20/20.
Are you the kind of mom who considers herself “easygoing”? I thought I was, believing my relaxed attitude helped my daughter be cheerful and carefree. But last night, it turned us into the party poopers.
Here’s the story:
I was co-hosting a cocktail gathering with friends, and I couldn’t find a babysitter. Skipping this event wasn’t an option, so I decided to bring my daughter, Lila. After all, who wouldn’t want to see a cute 18-month-old dressed in a trendy outfit?
I’ll tell you who: anyone trying to enjoy a drink and engage in adult conversation amidst flickering candles and beautiful artwork.
The soirée was at my friend’s stunning apartment in Chelsea. I asked if I could bring Lila, and my friend, a gracious hostess, said, “Sounds fun!” However, simply asking for permission doesn’t justify the decision. As I tossed both of us into an UberPool at 6:00 pm—just half an hour before Lila’s bedtime—I tried to reassure myself that it would be a good time.
We arrived at the party early, and the place was breathtaking—think velvet sofas and crystal glasses. I had been there before, but it had never looked this exquisite—and fragile.
Lila immediately greeted everyone with a cheerful “Hiiiiiiii!” She even helped my friend wrap up some preparations, munching on radishes and cheese while adorably calling them her “num-nums.” She said “peas” for please and “tank ya” for thank you, charming everyone with her sweet demeanor.
Then my friend went to light the votive candles, checking if I was okay with it first. In my carefree spirit, I replied, “No problem, Lady.” But honestly? I was being foolish. Within moments, I realized how I had put my daughter in potential danger. What was I thinking?
When my friend wasn’t looking, I swiftly extinguished the candles and hid them out of reach. Thus began a long night of relocating, concealing, and managing the chaos that Lila seemed to find everywhere. She had a knack for discovering trouble, whether it was artisanal knives, rare novels, or high-end perfume. She wasn’t being naughty; she was just being a curious toddler. However, I quickly realized that the happy-go-lucky mom and daughter duo idea was a total fail.
I regretted bringing her. I wanted to network; there was an editor I had been hoping to impress, but Lila had already decided to cuddle up to him. I had planned to introduce my best friend from LA to my work contacts, but that was impossible. My head was pounding, and I found prosciutto in my bra—even though I don’t eat pork!
In the end, I executed a classic Irish exit and got us out of there fast. I didn’t thank my friend for her hospitality, nor did I bother to capture any moments for social media.
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