Or Maybe Just Put The Tequila Into The Sippy Cup

Wow, the kids in bars post sure inspired a lot of discussion. For the record, I do think it's different if we're talking about restaurants with bars attached. But not at ten p.m. on a Friday night. And to all of you who said, "I go to bars to get away from children," - I say, "Hell yeah, sistahs!"

And I'm just joking about the tequila in the sippy cups - I think my kids should start off with something sweeter, like rum. Or possibly Valium. Why is it that the more exhausted I feel the more energy they have? So far they haven't figured out that my throwing the ball as far as I can and telling them to run and catch it isn't really a game, but I fear it's only a matter of time. They're pretty smart.

In other news, I had my ultrasound tonight and everything looks fine! Once again, you all were right. Though you all could have mentioned that at these early ones they do it vaginally. Wasn't prepared for THAT. Luckily it didn't last long since apparently by the time you get to #3 your uterus has moved permanently up. Was that too much information?

And I am happy to report that there's only one in there. After throwing up in the shower last night (I highly recommend it - such easy clean up) - something I never did with Ironflower or Lovebug - I was afraid that all these excess hormones meant I was having twins. But apparently it just means that the third time's the charm. Or something like that.

In other baby'-related news, Leslie over at My Mommy's Place is having her little girl tomorrow. Stop by to wish her an easy time and continue stopping by until you read the guest post I did for her. I'm not sure when it will be up (or if, to be honest - I'm not that happy with it and I told Leslie I wouldn't be offended if she didn't use it) but her posts are great and I'm sure her other guests' posts will be awesome. Plus, there'll be newborn pictures!

Oh, and I apologize profusely if I haven't dropped by your blog much lately. I will be there soon, I promise.

Can You Put Lemonade In This Sippy Cup and Get Me A Shot of Tequila?

So let's talk about something close to my heart: bars.

Before I had children, I spent a lot of my social time in bars. Bars combined some of my favorite activities; people watching, football watching, trivia playing, drinking and smoking. Just typing that makes me long for the good old days - or at least one gloomy fall day in a sports bar with my friends Mimi and Lauren, several football games, an NTN trivia board and a pitcher of beer. Or maybe a table on the patio of a brewpub, with a perfect view of all the crazy people walking through the neighborhood. Or possibly. . . .

Ahem, I seem to have gotten a bit distracted. My point was that no one loves a good bar more than I do. And yet it's never occurred to me to bring my children to one. How I missed this stroller ban drama, I'll never know. Apparently some bar in Brooklyn tried to ban strollers which enraged the local parents. Where else could they meet on rainy afternoons?

Uh. . . .a coffee shop? Library? Someone's house? Restaurant? Book store?

Personally, I like to imbibe when my children are already asleep or (even better) when someone else is taking care of them. I think it's a slippery slope when you (I) pop open "just one" bottle of wine at a playdate.

But let's suppose that these parents have more self-control than I do, okay? I still think the idea of pushing your stroller - or carrying your Baby Bjorn - into a bar is ridiculous. We're not talking about bar/restaurants, either. Apparently, these parents don't think they should have to "give up their lifestyles" just because they've had children.

I think that's fine to a point - if they have money for sleek, designer children's furniture/toys/clothes, good for them. I think it's fine if they bring well-behaved children to nice restaurants. More power to them if they want to take their toddlers to Paris. But I've gotta draw the line at taking your kids to Happy Hour.

What do you think?

Soap Opera Sunday - College One

Welcome to Soap Opera Sunday! Check out more soapy stories from fab founders Brillig and Kate or find even more great stories here. That last link is also where you can link if you'd like to write your own soapy story. Which I totally think you should.

I went to college in Boston, the mecca of college towns. Because the city is so full of college students, bars have extremely high I.D. standards. The only people I knew who got into bars underage were people who had used a sibling's birth certificate to get an actual driver's license and members of college hockey teams. Oh, and those of us who had a friend who worked at a bar. I didn't fall into the last category until my junior year, but I tried to make up for lost time. The bar my friend worked at was about three blocks from my apartment, filled with comfy couches and cute boys from my college and our rival (if you too went to college in Boston, it was Our House and I went to BU). It was perfect.

Not being 21 yet and only able to take the 18 and over clubs one night a week, I went to Our House a lot. One night I saw an exceptionally cute boy there. Now, I believed that boys who were interested would approach me - I never, ever approached a guy. Being 20 and blond (at the time), this approach worked rather well. So when I noticed exceptionally cute boy staring at me, I smiled and waited for him to approach. And waited. And waited. I walked past him, just in case he was the lazy type. He grinned and said nothing.

I had my friend Sherry make sure that he was, in fact, staring at me. Sherry, to her credit, was understanding about my reluctance to just go up and talk to him. We made one more circuit past him and STILL he didn't say anything. I don't know why I couldn't just give up. Or make my own move. I downed my beer and went and got another. I eyed him cautiously. He was dressed like a serious college preppy. He seemed quieter than his friends. Could he possibly be shy?

I decided to make one final attempt. If it didn't work, I would go join Sherry and the frat boys in the corner. I walked by exceptionally cute boy one more time . . .and stepped on his foot. "Oh, sorry!" I exclaimed. (I don't think I would recommend this move unless you are completely positive the guy has been smiling at you for the last hour or so).

"Don't worry about it! What's your name?" he replied quickly.