Baby's Night Out

Preface: These stories are the reason I started this blog. I figured if I tried to write about my life every day, I'd remember to remember things like this. Things that are too small for anyone to really care enough about that I'd feel the need to call them and tell them what happened, but things that are really big to me at the time. Someday, I want Brigid to look back on this and know how much Steve and I love her and that we think about her in just about everything we do. And I want to remember how I felt during this whole motherhood thing. Because it goes so fast. And I don't want to forget anything. And in everything that I do, I'm constantly thinking whether it would be something that I can write about, which, oddly enough, brings me more into the moment, and leads me to document things that I wouldn't normally consider worth documenting. All of that said? Last night would have been a perfect night for pictures. And I totally didn't take any.

FAIL!

At least I have a little story to tell...


So. We went out to dinner last night. We went to the same pizza place we always go to, because everybody likes the food, and it’s a pretty baby friendly place. Not such a big deal, right?

WRONG!!!

It was a big freaking deal. Because when I walked in (Steve leaves work before I do, so he went home to gather Brigid and everything that comes with Brigid, and I just met them all at the restaurant), my baby, my sweet little lump of baby, was sitting up in a restaurant provided high chair/booster seat. She was lounging in an awesomely cushy public seat protector thingy (thanks Lori!), but she was just chilling at the table, nonetheless. And then! She proceeded to drink out of a real cup!! Ok, it was a sippy cup, and she’s been doing that for a couple of weeks now, but seeing her do it while sitting at the table in a restaurant? So, so, so SAD! This is the first time we’ve gone out to dinner where it’s involved Brigid in her own seat. We usually take the car seat, and she either hangs out in that, or someone is holding her. I know she’s been sitting in a high chair at home for a couple of months now, but this just seemed different. She seemed so big. I know babies are all fun and whatnot at this age, but it’s all going a little too fast for my taste. Does this ever stop? Not so much the growing part of things (because I kind of already know the answer to that, as much as I hate it), but the freaking out every time something new happens? Eventually, I’ll just resign myself to the fact that babies grow up, and it happens sooner than we’d like. Right? RIGHT?

Maybe it gets easier after the first kid. Maybe once you move on to the second kid, you’re just so busy that you’re happy every time the baby can do something for herself. Or maybe you just keep having kids so you never have to deal with not having the baby around.

Oy. If I end up with 25 kids, at least we’ll know where it all started.