Happy Endings

So, as you know, BioMom and I have, after long deliberation, decided to send the FYO to Catholic school.

It will definitely be an adventure.

Friday was our first social event as Parents Of A Kindergartener.

We had won, under some rather inauspicious circumstances, an overly expensive dinner/contribution-to-the-school (yes--in addition to the tuition that we will be paying) at a silent auction at one of the more *ahem* swanky parent-homes.

Needless to say, I did NOT have a good attitude on Friday afternoon at the thought of having an ENTIRE night free (the FYO was to have a sleepover with Sidekick) but not actually free (in the language of the economist, my opportunity cost was high not just in the expense of the dinner, but that I would rather have been nearly anywhere but there).

BioMom and I bickered at eachother intermittently during the day.

Either of us, at any given time: Well, I don't want to go EITHER!

She has been EXHAUSTED lately, and, again, the thought of a) finally getting some free non-kid time together where she b) will have to abide by the strong social norms forbidding attacks of narcolepsy (norms which are frequently ignored in the scarce post-FYO-bedtime hours between 8 and 11 p.m. at our house) would have been savored, had we not already signed up to schmooze with a gaggle of rich strangers.

Okay, I had a REALLY bad attitude.

Oh, and I was on, like, page 476 of Harry Potter VI.

I had good reason not to want to go!

Of course, we got there, and it was lovely. The food was good, the drinks were flowing, and the socio-economic diversity was unexpectedly palatable.

At around 9:30, though, we faced a fork in the road, and really, REALLY wanted, despite all advice otherwise, to take the path well-travelled:

We wanted to make the 10:00 showing of Happy Endings.

This meant, of course, leaving the party just as people were starting to relax into it, and even before the first wave-of-leavers.

I had already decided that it was either a) leave now and actually DO something while the lovely BioMom was still in the world of the living or b) stay and help in the cause of closing down the well-stocked bar.

BioMom, achy ligaments in tow, was not much for standing around much longer, or, certainly, for watching a crowd of strangers get hammered on top shelf booze. It might have been a different story if she knew everyone well enough to come away with some good gossip. But she knew that even THAT was not in store for the evening.

So, we left.

But not without controversy.

As she would tell the story, we did not create a game plan re: why we were leaving, to tell the hosts, and the few guests we knew.

As I would tell it: BioMom couldn't control the spin.

Host: Oh. Are you leaving?

Me: Yeah! You know, I NEVER get to take THIS ONE (my head tilting toward BioMom) out anymore, so I'm sneaking her off to a movie while the kid's at the sitter!

BioMom: Inwardly mortified at the thought of making them feel like we were off to bigger and better things.

The result? A very happy ending.