Plus One (Minus One)

There is currently a great deal of uproar in my family about one of my cousin's upcoming weddings. The initial trigger? They didn't want kids at their wedding (to be held next September).

My reaction to this news:
1. Wow, this is going to piss everyone in my family off!
2. If you don't want kids at your wedding, that's totally your choice, but you have to be prepared for:
a. Everyone in your family being pissed off.
b. A good deal of people choosing not to come
because:
i. See 2a.
ii. They can't make arrangements to not bring
their kids.
3. Hallelujah! Now, no one will question why I didn't bring Sophia!

Okay, so the cousin and his intended changed their policy after the initial backlash. And now I'm stuck in a weird place. While I have no problem with bringing Sophia anywhere, the simple fact is this: she's THREE. She will have fun with watching the pretty dresses, wearing a pretty dress, eating cake, and dancing on a a dancefloor for a grand total of 4 minutes and 36 seconds. My family will dote on her, except when she is being THREE (i.e. when she needs to go to the potty, is crying because I won't let her touch - let alone operate - a steak knife, and is inconsolable when the flower she's been given by the bride in a moment of touching generosity drops a petal, as flowers are wont to do)(oh, and I haven't even mentioned the 7-hour drive!).

This is my job, it's what I signed up for the second I asked Sophia'sdaddy, "What do you think about having a kid?" I certainly have no problem with that.

But my family questions why I wouldn't bring Sophia. "It'll be FUN!" they insist.

Oh my yes. Fun, indeed. None of them thinks about the fact that, if they were attending weddings in their hometowns and had small children, they would have pawned them off to sitters. Frankly, it's probably more fun for Sophia to spend two days (regularly scheduled, nothing out of the ordinary in our child-custoday arrangement here) with her dad, who is forever managing to do things like play with play dough for hours and somehow never wind up with it in his carpet - I've seen his carpet; it's true.

But I know the questions will be small, the implication subtle: "Oh, we wish we could've seen Sophia!"

And I'll feel awful. But also slightly relieved that a weird byproduct of a "good" divorce is this kind of built-in babysitting, even if it does make me look self-centered (which I can tell already that I am). Am I so terrible for wanting to pass out in a hotel room bed, responsible just for myownself, after the nuptial festivities, like God intended? Don't answer that.

The fact that my invite is likely to arrive with the inner envelope addressed to just "Meg" rather than "Meg and Guest" (which would open a world of possibility, even if that possibility is grounded entirely in my imagination) is an entirely other issue that will have to be considered in a future blog post.