"On a completely unrelated topic, I'm having a very, very important dinner party tonight."

Ellie had a social event to attend for work last night. It was a dinner party, and attendance was optional; she could go, or she could spend the next week explaining to everyone where she was Friday. She chose to go. Seeing as this was my best shot at a Valentine’s Day dinner, I went with her. Children were strongly discouraged from attending, though the organizers made an exception for ones small enough to remain in their carriers. This meant the twins came with us, but Abbie would need a babysitter.

Our first choice to watch Abbie was the neighbor’s 15-year-old son. He doesn’t fit the traditional mold of a babysitter in the sense that he’s a he, but he is the oldest of seven children, and therefore more experienced and better qualified to care for Abbie than I am. We lined him up to watch her for the night, but then Ellie’s father informed us that afternoon that he’d be visiting for the weekend and would be happy to watch Abbie for us. We told the neighbor’s boy that we suddenly didn’t need him for the night; I couldn’t tell if he was happy to have the night free on short notice, disappointed that he wouldn’t be paid tonight, or just an apathetic 15-year-old boy.

With Abbie cared for, we packed up the twins and left for the dinner. When we arrived, we picked the nearest table, planted the twins in their carriers on it, and settled in. Normally I hate these events since I’m surrounded by medical professionals discussing medical topics, leaving me nothing to do but graze off the food and drinks, and since I don’t drink alcohol, even this has limited appeal. However, this would be the first chance for many of Ellie’s co-workers to see the twins, or at least their first chance since the Christmas party. This gave me an easy way to make small talk for the entire night between bites off my dinner plate by answering the standard twin questions* for everyone in attendance individually.

I actually enjoyed something approaching a night off of parenting, as everyone was only too happy to hold and feed the twins while I ate. The night’s biggest excitement came when Ellie went to change a poopy diaper that was quickly approaching blowout status, and discovered that I forgot to pack diapers; I packed the milk, a changing pad, two changes of clothes, but no diapers. Fortunately the twins have been running me so ragged that I never took the time to remove the new box of diapers we bought Monday from the car. I ran out to the car, pulled out six of the box’s 168 diapers, and ran back to Ellie before the poop spread, all the while marveling at how my laziness had paid off.

We returned home just in time to plop Abbie in bed. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been cooperative for grandpa, and he let her spend much of the night bouncing between the TV and her loud electronic toys to keep her happy. This meant that she was wound up and not ready for sleep. We read a little extra to her, gave her a little extra bedtime milk, and let her enjoy a little extra quiet free time before making her go to sleep. When we decided the banging emanating from her room meant she was still too wound up, we repeated the process. The result was her regular 9:15 bedtime turned into a 10:50 bedtime. I feel bad for letting her stay up so late, but I don’t know how to wind her down any faster. Maybe I should have asked the neighbor’s boy for some advice.

* “Are they identical?”
“Which one’s the good one?”
“Are they sleeping okay?”
“How are you still functional after getting that much sleep?”