Some of you may find this hard to believe, but last night was the first time we've ever paid a babysitter to keep our kids so we could go out at night. Not the first time in a while, or the first time since Genevieve was born, but the first time. Ever.
Babysitters have always seemed like this mysterious commodity to me, kind of like drugs in junior high; you hear other people talking about using them, but you don't really know where or how to find any and you're not sure how it would all work out if you ever did. My parents live in town, and they will usually watch the kids on the rare occasion that we ask them to. But for various reasons, that means they have to come to our house, and by about 11:00 they are wondering where the hell we are and wanting to go home and get in their own bed. And really, my parents are on the young side, they both still work full time, and I'm just generally uncomfortable with asking them (or anyone) to give up their own free time so that I can have some. Those of you who know me may find this shocking, but I don't like to ask people for favors.
So, last night all the usual suspects were going out for the October birthdays (mine included), and I wanted to be able to stay out past midnight without feeling guilty about someone sitting at my house wondering when I was going to get there. That's the good thing about paying the exorbitant rate that babysitters make these days--the money precludes the guilt. I found a very sweet Bio major through the babysitter list at my alma mater , and she played with the kids and even Genevieve seemed to really like her, so I felt fine about that and didn't spend the night wondering if they missed me. They all did great.
I'm sure there will be other more detailed accounts of how the evening was spent, but just to hit a few of the high points, I had my favorite food for dinner, whipped Stephanie's ass at darts and Andria's at pool (ok, I may have also lost to both of them in equal measure), shared several pitchers of draft beer with friends for the first time in who knows how many years, danced to music from a juke box, showed a mildly scandalous amount of cleavage, and indulged in just a little inappropriate PDA. It was a good night, and worth every penny of the million dollars we paid the sitter.