This weekend, my husband and I had a gala function to attend. It was cocktail attire, which meant breaking out Brian’s suit and tie, a rare occasion akin to spotting the Loch Ness monster. And for me, well that’s a whole story.
As I stood at the stove 43 minutes before the event, stirring spaghetti sauce, I looked down at my heavy terry robe, covering the dress I finally decided to wear seven minutes earlier and was too lazy to take off, I had to shake my head at how drastically things change once you have kids.
Pre-children, preparing for a night out was an event unto itself. It started with shopping for the dress. From the day the invitation arrived, I would start thinking about what I wanted to wear. Was it casual or formal? Cocktail or black tie? What time of year was it? Because that would determine the shoe selection. Open-toe heels or a dressy sandal? Something a little fun and funky or traditional and classic? It might take hours of shopping to find the perfect ensemble. And I didn’t even address jewelry.
Post-children, it’s sort of a different story. The invitation arrives and I start thinking, do I really have to go? Friday night? I’m super tired by then. Am I willing to give up my sweatpants for pantyhose? Who am I kidding, there is definitely no pantyhose. Those are like medieval torture devices.
OK, so I decide to go, RSVP and then forget about it until an hour before it starts, at which point dress selection consists of pulling 12 different dresses, or varying sizes depending on what point in life I purchased them, from the depths of my closet and hastily throwing each one on to see which I like best at that exact moment. It’s usually hard to gauge with my black socks, but it’s too cold to take them off. Twenty minutes later, the dress is chosen and I have 40 minutes until we have to leave.
Pre-children, the prep time began a minimum of two hours prior. There was showering, shaving, shampooing and lotion-ing and at least 30 minutes for doing hair and makeup. Music would be playing to get me in a festive mood and all the clothing, shoes and accessories were neatly laid out on my bed.
Post-children, I’m glad I remembered to shave that morning and if I shove a flowery clip in my hair, it looks much fancier. Sure my make-up was applied at 8 a.m., but that just needs freshening up; a little eyeliner (which I rarely wear and desperately try not to poke myself in the eye with because that will make the also-rare mascara run down my face), another round of lipstick and something to tone down the shiny forehead. Done. It all took 76 seconds.
Pre-children, I waited until the last minute to put on the dress, lest any foreign substance stain it or (more) cat or dog hair attach itself to me.
Post-children, I’m already wearing the dress. I should probably have taken it off after I picked it, but I had to shoo the cat off the Brian’s suit that I had put out, right before the beast decided to dig his claws into the lapel. It’s easier to just throw on the big terry robe. Plus, I still have to make the kid’s dinner. It’s like wearing a giant, all encompassing apron.
Pre and post-children, shoes go on at the last minute. Even the most comfortable heels are just silly to wear when you’re in your own home, unless you’re June Cleaver and I think even she was pissed about it.
The difference is that pre-children, the shoes are nicely resting in the box they came in, shiny and untouched, a perfect match for the new dress. They took almost as long as the dress to shop for and, for the crazy-Imelda-Marcos-wannabe, I feel glee just looking at them.
Post-children, it’s 10 minutes before we need to be out the door and I’m angrily pulling 39 different shoes from under my bed, looking for the mate to the one I’m using to dig out the ones I can’t reach. And it’s likely a dog is trying to eat the flowery clip off my head, because it’s in his face and I’ve already twice yelled at him for licking my hair.
Pre-children, the final touch is an adorable little purse that fits a driver’s license for when you get carded, lipstick and some cash. I didn’t even have a cell phone that many years ago, so the only other required item was car keys and Brian could easily fit those is one of the many pockets they hide in suits.
Post-children, the purse may still be adorable, but it’s probably not little. And if it is, it’s the sub-purse. That means that you bring along the full size bag and leave it in the car or hide it with your jacket at the coat check. The sub-purse still has lipstick, but the driver’s license has been replaced with a cell phone because it’s just sad and delusional to think I may be carded and more likely a kid may set the house on fire while we’re out.
Pre-children, the mood is light and we head out the door, looking forward to a fun night of music, drinks and laughter.
Post-children, I’ve got my double purses in hand, a slightly slobbery flower in my hair and I’m ready to go.
We walk out the door as I dole out instructions on fire safety and remind them where we keep the fire extinguisher. I don’t even think they looked up from their devices as they mumbled the now-rote responses, “Bye. Yes, I know where the fire extinguisher is. No, I won’t open the door for anyone. Not even Grandma. Yes Mom, I know that someone could have cloned her and is trying to trick me. And the real grandma has her own key.”
OK, then I guess we can go.
I made them spaghetti before we left, but they could starve to death in the three hours we’re gone (it could happen), so I have to leave a snack.
Being raised by hippie freaks, my kids love raw vegetables. I can just leave cut up peppers or a bowl full of snap peas and they’ll be gone in the blink of an eye. However, I’ve heard that some kids are more apt to eat their daily recommended dose of greens if you give them some ranch dip. I switch out plain greek yogurt for the sour cream to up the health factor.
Ranch dip
Ingredients
1 1/2 cup plain greek yogurt
2 tablespoon dried parsley
1 teaspoon dried dill
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon white vinegar
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Directions
In a bowl, combine all ingredients, tasting frequently and adjusting seasonings as needed. Chill for a couple of hours before serving.
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.
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