Alli, I think he peed your carseat.

Alli sent out an e-mail requesting the company of Nashville Bloggers for dinner.

And, apparently, none of the excuses I gave her to try and remain a hermit were going to work.  I considered telling her that I had contracted leprosy since we last saw one another, but I was kind of thinking that would ruin my chances of ever seeing her again, and I like her, you know?  Plus, she might have called my bluff and then I’d have had to rip an arm off or something to prove it, and that’s just going way too far.  I mean, the last time I did something like that it was really messy and it took so much bleach to get out the stains in the carpet. 

And the poor guy I did it to was just so annoying with the wailing and the crying while I was beating him over the head with his own appendage that I could barely hear myself think.

What?  I’m sorry, I just really don’t like solicitors.  If I want to buy a vacuum or a revolutionary new cleaning product from the confines of my own home (hermit, aka SAHM) then I’ll do it from the home shopping network or online, while sitting in my pajamas that I haven’t taken off in 4 days, thank you very much.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the Nashville Blogger Dinner.

Yeah, so the real reason why I was hedging?  I mean, other than the fact that we really were sick this whole past week and I can’t see well enough to judge distances at night?

Well.  Because of:

Yup.  John’s gone, and we have no babysitter.  Well, more to the truth – I refuse that we will ever have a babysitter.  Because, you know, I can’t comprehend that someone else could possibly know how to take care of a young child.  I mean… as far as I know, I’m the only one that has ever done this whole being a mother and taking care of a kid thing.

Right?  Everyone else has no clue how to do that properly.

Maybe it’s more like… anyone I’d trust enough to take care of him… well, I probably like that person quite a bit, and… well.  After one night with Screamy McFit-Thrower Shriekenstein they’ll more than likely wish curses on me and plot my death.  At the very least, I’m going on the “Do Not Call” list.

Whatever it is, I’m that mother.  The one who’s a Paranoid Freakeroonie, and won’t leave her kid with anyone but her husband.

But, hm, Alli was all, “Bring him with you, no one will care, and I will drive you!”  So, I crumbled to her loveliness and my need for human interaction of the adult nature. 

I committed the sin of bringing the rugrat to the adult dinner!  And no one threw their food at me.  I was amazed.

Amy gave us a big hug when we got there (and was surprised to see him in pants).  Michelle and Malia were lucky to be sitting the farthest from him.  Alli let him play with things from her purse, and Meredith actually offered to hold him at one point.  (I didn’t allow her to torture herself, though, as he was in Bucking & Trashing Mode.)

And he only screamed twice.