Finding My Neurotic Inner Parent, At Last

And...she's BACK IN THE GAME! With my last paper in, I can move on to dwelling on new things now...

Last night Mario and I went with my Mom and Dad and my sister and her boyfriend Scott (aka The Bike Couple)on the invitation of my grandparents to the 9th Annual Best of Tahoe Chefs. This is the second time we've attended this event, a hospital benefit dinner where the best chefs from Tahoe/Truckee prepare a host of delicious/presumably delicious** foods, which are paired with an array of intoxicating/very intoxicating wines.

Last year when we went, I was carefree. I was about to graduate from my master's, and was pregnant but didn't know it yet, so could enjoy myself fully. Doubtlessly Scarlett can attribute losing at least two IQ points to the quantities of wine I consumed that night (although, ESP-ishly, I didn't drink nearly as much as I could have...)

This year, I was not pregnant (or GOD HELP ME if I am!) but instead had a new concern...leaving my baby, for the first time longer than an hour, with a non-family babysitter. Who better for the job than my dear friend EmilyPie and her long-suffering hubby Brandon? They kindly volunteered for duty, so (after a total panic attack when I realized, WAY too late in the game, that NONE of my semi-nice clothes fit my grotesque post-baby mom body, which resulted in an emotional breakdown and then a VERY late departure) we dropped off the baby and headed for Tahoe.

Now, prior to last night, I have prided myself on being a PRET-ty laid back mom. I had to start leaving Scarlett at one week of age for school, and was never neurotic about it. I travel (comparatively) light, let anyone who wants to hold her, and NEVER think about whether or not their hands are clean. So I really didn't think this would be a big deal.

But suddenly, within minutes of dropping her off, I realized why some of my friends with kids never go out. It's so much easier to stay home and adjust to becoming socially backward than deal with all the what-ifs...What-if she wakes up and thinks we've abandoned her? What-if I forgot to convey something important about her body language or how to tell if she's hungry or tired? What-if she's a terror and Emily and Brandon NEVER speak to us again? What-if I didn't leave enough milk? What-if she barfs chunks down Emily's cleavage?

Needless to say, my worries were for naught. Well, OF COURSE Emily got her cleavage barfed on, but other than that (unless E&B were telling lies to make me feel better) she was a moderately good, only mildly fussy baby, in great hands with our bestest friends. But of course, Scarlett was never at risk for not making it through the night...it was really me that was at risk of having a coronary from new-found mommy paranoia.

But I didn't. With the help of a few glasses of wine, I lived with no lasting damage other than being mildly humbled by the realization that I am just as much of a neurotic mess as every other new mom out there. Sigh... I might as well embrace it and face it now, because we've got our first plane ride (my Seattle conference) in less than THREE days, and my fears are mounting as to how the whole fiasco is going to go.

**I say presumably regarding the food, because the vast portion of the entrees and appetizers are things I don't eat, aka raw meat and meat in general. Okay, I know you are DYING to hear my freakish rules about the consumption of meat, so here they are:
One, I don't eat anything too big, too cute, or too ugly. That rules out pigs, cows, lambs, rabbits, ducks, snakes, eels, rats...You get the point. This basically leaves...chicken and fish.
Two: Bones, skin or any other feature that resembles something living are out. This leaves me with chicken and breast meat and fish filets.
Three: Meat is meant to be cooked. I really don't understand how one can hear about all the yucky stuff carried in uncooked meat (okay, all I can think of at the moment is trichinosis, but whatever) and then go out and consume vast quantities of raw fish just because someone decided to call it "sushi." Carpaccio falls in this category too, and yes, I know it makes all the fancy pants chefs rend their hair and swoon, but I like my ahi DONE thank you. "Pan-seared" is just a fancy way to say "undercooked" as far as I am concerned!

All of this said I pride myself on being a pretty good cook. I think I need to put out my own fancy chef cookbook for those who don't subscribe to the "if it's not raw, it's not gourmet" camp. It would be called "Living by Crystal's Freaky Meat Rules and Eating Well Anyway." So there.