Lucy Reflects

You Can Dress Her Up, But You Can’t Take Her Out.

Whitney and I recently embarked on a night out without our kids …

Whitney and I primarily hang out together with our kids. There’s been a time or two when we didn’t, but it’s few and far between. We recently planned a night out in downtown Lancaster to brainstorm our upcoming project in March. At least that’s what we told our husbands we were doing.

“Let’s go to a place where our kids would hate the food,” I proposed.

“Something swanky and trendy to meet our needs as bloggers,” Whitney added.

Whitney picked me up. Both of us transformed out of sweats, lounge wear, and sneaks and into cute ankle boots and attire our kids would ruin just by looking at it. We set out to the Pressroom for a drink and some appetizers.

I was particularly agitated after a brief interaction with a parent at Max’s earlier soccer game who was appalled that my daughter was covered in cheese curl dust. I spent the ride unloading about this clown on our way downtown, which was enough to distract Whitney because she headed down the wrong way of Queen Street.

“Do you think I’m going the wrong way? Yep. I’m driving down the wrong way of a one-way,” Whitney admitted.

“Jeez. Sorry. I was so busy being bitching about a soccer dad. But yeah, this is a one way. As in, going the other way that we are currently going. There is definitely traffic headed towards us.”

Whitney quickly B-lined it into the parking garage. We both decided to have a no-big- deal attitude over the mess we caused for a block for two reasons: we didn’t get hit and it must happen often because someone followed us down Queen Street into oncoming traffic as well. We decided it wasn’t our fault.

Whitney has great style and she was wearing super cute boots. What I love about Whitney is that she AWALYS finds the best deals and she is so good about telling me about them.

“Love your boots!” I told her.

“Thanks. Kohl’s. Like 30 bucks.”

(Note to self, go shoe shopping at Kohl’s.)

As we headed into the Pressroom and the hostess walked us to our table, Whitney’s sweet little boots got the best of her and she lost her footing. She tripped again and again. She is going DOWN, I thought to myself. Miraculously she caught herself on a neighboring table, a young couple dining not expecting a Whitney with their meal.

I stumbled over some stupid words coupled with a lame attempt at catching her.

“I don’t think anyone even noticed,” I murmured, trying to sound honest when it was a blatant and ridiculous lie.

Our server, a young fella who had to listen to us unleash our trials and tribulations about being moms and not quite understanding how to act appropriately in public without our kids, was fabulous at acting like he was interested in our mom lives and blog.

“Did you see me almost fall on my ass?” Whitney announced.

“We don’t know how to go out as adults anymore, when did that happen?!?” we yelled at him and then followed it up with “OMG, meet us at Aussie and the Fox! We’re bloggers! Follow us on Facebook!”

He was all of 22. He entertained us but had no intention of meeting up next door after his shift. I mean, at 22, he wasn’t meeting mom bloggers. Time to be honest with ourselves.

That was our new thing. To shout to the world and Lancaster that we were bloggers. We thought it was intriguing. It was our outlet into this new beautiful world that allowed us to talk about us as individuals and not horrific potty-training stories or how our kids strangled other kids and sometimes used swear words.

At Aussie and Fox, a … shall we say … “distinguished” gentleman approached us.

“Have I met you before?” He asked me.

“Do people still use that line?” I said aloud to Whitney as he hovered.

Whitney tactfully adjusted her fashionable new eye glasses on the bridge of her nose, cleared her throat and flashed her smile. “We are bloggers and in the middle of conducting a meeting.”

“What’s a blogger?” he asked. He did not give a shit about what we were doing. We engaged in a bit of conversation with him. He asked if we were married. We politely flashed wedding bands at him. Then we took a second to quietly fist bump, because WE STILL GOT IT, GIRL.

There’s such a difference when you spend time with a mom BFF and then you take that “next step” to hanging out without your kids. It’s like dating. Nervousness can prevail. You’re not sure how to act around each other. You go down one-way streets or trip in a crowded restaurant. Or you blab nonsense to the waiter.

Whitney and I are lucky to have a cool friendship. I’ll pick her up (or at least do my best) if she falls. We work well together. I’m extremely happy for that. And Whitney WOULD NEVER judge me based on the amount of cheese dust on my kids. That’s how I know it’s true mom love.

Turns out our server did follow us on Lucy Reflects. Score!

On another note, follow us as we do explore other means of meeting new moms. Stay tuned …