So Inappropriate..

Last night Mark and I attended an "Inappropriate Party" hosted by the parents of one of Makena's classmates from last year. We were given several weeks notice which is of no benefit to me. I don't get serious about these things unless time is of the essence. Also, we weren't sure we'd be able to find a babysitter.

As time grew closer I started to fret. I don't remember ever going to a costume party even as a child; I really wasn't sure what to expect. Anyway--I finally had an idea--Hugh Hefner and a pregnant playboy bunny. And I'll be damned if the second that entered my head, I couldn't think of anything else. After a couple of days of desperately trying to come up with an idea that didn't involve me wearing a bunny tail I set out to put together the costume. Dammit!

After several trips to the costume shop-- trying to find a bunny suit that was big enough for a pregnant belly but not too big for my less than pregnant bosom--I finally determined that such a costume doesn't exist. Yet, the mental block that was disallowing any other ideas to flow freely was still in full force. I finally pieced together enough of an outfit with what I had at home. And had 2 very sleepless nights stressing over my choice of costumes. "It's just like wearing a bathing suit--it's just like wearing a bathing suit…” became my mantra.

The morning of the party we had to go back to the mall to pick up some final accessories--namely inserts to assist my bosom. As Mark and I were standing in front of the display, pondering my options, Makena said, "Look, it fits (or it sticks--I'm not sure which one)". She had lifted her shirt up and had one of the falsies stuck to her bare chest. There comes a point when you realize your kids are far more aware of what’s going on than you thought (like deducing the purpose (somewhat) of an object by looking at the package.)—this was definitely that point. Makena—we owe you a few therapy sessions for that one.  Sorry, sweetheart.

The babysitter issue was resolved by the party’s host. They gave us the number to a nanny service and we shared a sitter with another family—some friends of ours who are also parents from last year’s class. A few hours before the party, the mom sent me a text with concerns about the logistics of leaving the kids with the sitter—she couldn’t have the sitter see her in her get-up. Apparently the sitters from this agency are of the mature variety.

Good thinking, Rebecca! Janet was probably in her 70s, extremely nice and extremely proper! She kept referring to Kessler as the “little gentleman”. I was embarrassed to be wearing my diversion dress and fish nets, let alone a bunny outfit. It took us about 45 minutes to leave because the little gentleman was not warming up to Janet. She was taking it in stride—encouraging us to leave and all would be fine. We finally did make the mad dash to the door—by the time we got settled into the car we could hear that he had settled.

We finished getting dressed at Rob and Rebecca’s. I was so relieved to see their costumes—Rebecca was a suicide bomber with a see thru burka. It was awesome. Rob was a pedophile priest complete with bible, advertisements of child models from clothing magazines falling from it and a broken zipper. He also had a pedophile’s hair cut as well (who knew they had one)?

The party was a blast—complete with inappropriate games and food. We stayed out until 2:00 a.m. I cannot remember the last time that happened.  I had to don my diversion dress to return home.  To confirm that we made the right decision about said dress, Janet walked to the front door and hesitated.  I opened the door for her and we walked her to her car as she thanked me, explaining that it wasn't proper for the guest to open the door of someone else's home.