If you happened to be in the vicinity of Cristina’s Mexican Restaurant last night at 7:00 p.m. or so and thought that you saw someone resembling me (bags under my eyes, red/chapped nose from a cold, hair that needed to be cut/colored months ago) sitting alone in the bar area, don’t be alarmed.  I haven’t fallen off the wagon.  I wasn’t stepping out on BT, waiting for Don Juan to come and whisper “dulce nadas” in my ear.  I was just enjoying the peace, solitude and anonymity of my weekly “momma’s night out,” sipping my ice water (with a slice of lemon, of course), dining on brisket tacos, and watching American Idol on the t.v. for first time ever (closed-caption probably isn’t how the program was meant to be experienced).

Cristina’s isn’t my usual hang out.  In fact, I try to mix things up to make it harder for my family to track me down. One week it may be The Cheesecake Factory . . . another, Outback Steak House, Corner Bakery, or even McDonald’s drive-through if I spend too much time at the mall and all the other more palatable options are closed. But although the venue changes each time, one thing doesn’t change.  I am always by myself . . . alone . . . solo.  Unlike right now, as I try to type and hold a screaming baby at the same time while attempting to keep Vivi from stepping in the big mound of baby lotion that she just squeezed out on the carpet.

Guess I’d better go clean up the lotion . . . and change a poopy diaper . . . and stop Vivi from eating the entire box of crackers that she just pulled from the pantry . . . and dream about where my next Momma’s Night Out adventure may take me. 😉