Let’s back up a bit.
Michael has a state ophthalmology meeting this weekend, and last night, they hosted a fancy-schmancy family dinner at a nice hotel. Yes, you read that right. Fancy-schmancy. Family dinner. Nice hotel. All in the same sentence.
We needed to leave our house around 4:00 so I could first take the kids to Michael’s office and let him examine eyes of the elder two. Can’t see the board, blurry shapes, blah-blah-blah. Around 2:00 I realized that none of the kids – not one of them – had appropriate clothing for aforementioned fancy-schmancy dinner. Not a stitch. Not even shoes.
If I think about it too much, I’m sure there is an explanation for their lack of nice clothes. They wear playclothes to school. Our church is one of those contemporary settings where we can show up in jeans or shorts and fit right in (it’s kind of a standing joke that no one on staff tucks his shirt in, even the pastor). We really have no need for dressy clothing. The last time the boys had a new pair of slacks was last year when my brother got married and they were both in the wedding. No fancy clothes in our house. Very caz.
(I think I just made up a word.)
Thankfully, the kids had an early dismissal yesterday afternoon, so we had just enough time to jet down the street to JC Penney and make a mad dash for fancy-shmancy clothing and shoes. We were on a mission. I had an hour and a half to dress my kids from head to toe.
Check out the shoes:
(They were a size too big, but it was slim pickins at JCP for my very stylish baby girl who is now the proud owner of high heels…so we bought them anyway because they made her happy. Don’t mess with a woman who can’t find the right shoes.)
Meghan was bemoaning the fact that her feet are smaller than every other 10 year old girl she knows, so she is stuck in the girls’ shoe department while her friends can already shop in the much-more-stylish ladies’ shoe department. I tried to assure her that someday she would be very happy to have her mother’s small feet.
Griffin wanted a pair of penny loafers, but his feet (and the feet of the other two) are too thick to squeeze into a shoe without laces. That’s their dad’s fault.
Nathan did end up wearing a hand-me-down shirt of Griffin’s, but we had to get him new slacks because Griffin has torn a hole in the left knee of every single pair of pants he has worn since he was three years old.
After my credit card stopped moaning and we got back home, we had just enough time to change into our fancy clothes and head out the door.
First stop, the doctor’s office:
Griffin has perfect vision and Meghan has a slight correction that could warrant glasses, but she could live without them. Hence, her asking every two minutes, “so can I get glasses?”
From there, off to the fancy-schmancy dinner. We walked in, and immediately I noticed we are the only ones with kids. I stood in the doorway debating whether or not to make a break for it before anyone noticed we had come in, but Michael and the kids were too fast. There were a total of four additional children at this dinner, so I almost didn’t look as awkward as I felt.
Let’s reiterate: Fancy-schmancy. Family dinner. Nice hotel.
And I will add two other words: Never. Again.
It wasn’t too bad. If you don’t count the 14 “I’m-bored-can-I-go-to-the-bathroom?” stops, Nathan putting his french fries in his water glass, Griffin announcing “I’m going to throw up!” (he didn’t). Other than that, it wasn’t awful. Meghan was actually really sweet. We were astounded by how grown-up she seemed last night. She wanted to make sure she was using the appropriate utensil, and she made polite conversation with the adults around her.
(Must’ve been the influence of the new high heels.)
Nathan, on the other hand, was chatting it up and charming every single doctor’s wife there. Seriously, this kid’s going to be one heavy-duty heartbreaker. He’s just too adorable for his own good. Or the good of any female within his radius. They simply cannot resist his powers.
Also his dad’s fault.
(Which no one who met Michael after he met me can believe…but trust me. Before I came into the picture, the guy was a Class A Flirt. Which is how he snagged me. Which is another story for another day. Let’s just all be thankful that I cured him of that. Nathan, however, is just getting warmed up.)
We finally finish our meal, make the necessary rounds to shake hands and engage in small-talk, and exit as quickly as possible. Drive all the way home – about an hour – pull into the garage and realize that Michael’s car is still at his office.
Get back into the car, drive 20 minutes there, 20 minutes back, and collapse into our beds. Attention, please: The Fairy Godmother has left the building.
But she did leave us a darn cute pair of black patent heels.