An Indian wedding in Maryland, Part 2

I left you to go to the rehearsal dinner. The entire posse of wedding party et al left Aunt and Uncle's house to go rehearse, including the Diplomat who was given the crucial role of lifting the bride during the garland exchange. Son was blissfully asleep. That gave me a few peaceful hours to sit down and relax. What did I do?? I decided to vacuum the house--it seemed like the least I could do for Aunt and Uncle who were running around arranging the zillion details involved in the wedding. Once that was done, I fished out a nice Indian movie from their library and watched the intensely mawkish drama of the Raincoat. After I had rolled my eyes about 37 times during the ridiculous plot, I left for the rehearsal dinner at the Foster's Clambake at National Harbor to have some lobster and run after Son in 4-inch heels. Two excellent Grey Goose martinis later, up to my elbows in butter and lobster shells, I kept trying to shove some lobster in Son's mouth while he persistently refused to put the suspicious-smelling meat in his mouth. He did seem substantially more interested in playing with the tiny stones on the ground since, naturally, I had dressed him in his best, which soon became looking like his worst. I think you can imagine how much effort it took to look elegant and effortless while chasing him in high-heels through those darn pebbles. It took one more martini to get some of my dignity back.

And then I forgave it all once Son asked me to dance--we mommies are weak that way. And while we were dancing, I realized that one day, not that far away, probably some quick 25 years later, I will most likely be dancing like that with him at his own wedding (well, perhaps with a bit more coordinated effort on his part--hmm, then again, he is his father's son and I can tell you the Diplomat is not going to be a hit in Bollywood any time soon). It took a super-human-mommy effort not to cry. It is moments like that when I realize just how mercilessly fast life flies away, and the best that I can do is not allow it to pass me by but to live it to the utmost and savor the memories.
As the night progressed, the party kept on going strong, while Son was pretending to sleep in his stroller. It is moments like that when the Diplomat and I try to really figure out this parenting thing--do we leave the fabulous beach party and take Son to sleep in his bed, or do we leave him to (not) sleep in his stroller while we socialize and party. This time we, um, chose the latter. Judge all you want but we were having fun and I firmly believe that sometimes, it is not just about our kids but also about us, the parents. Contrary to popular children's belief, we parents are also human and deserve to have some fun. So there.