I have decided I need more Americans in my life. I miss my American friends I had in Baku so badly. Nowadays, I only keep in touch with them via Facebook. I love their accents, their non-English ways, their expressions and mannerisms. But most importantly, I need some more Americans in the UK who would invite me for a Thanksgiving dinner.
This year, first time in my British life, we got invited to someone’s house for Thanksgiving, and it was just perfect. Well, almost perfect.
When we got told it was a dinner party, I got excited. I don’t get to go to many dinner parties these days.
I knew that the friends who invited us had a little girl who would probably stay up; however she has an amazing ability to happily entertain herself so that did not bother me. I also knew it was OK to bring my child, should I decide to do so. But why would I? It was an evening event, and too late for her anyway. But, most importantly, I needed my break, too. So I was looking forward to a nice dinner party in an adult company. We booked a babysitter and set off into London.
However, when we arrived, I noticed that another family brought their two little children.
Hmm, I thought.
You see, just because I have a child does not mean I love hanging out with other people’s kids. Especially in the evenings. Especially when I counted on a proper adult company.
Of course, it is not a big deal when it is not your kid. But when you are a parent yourself, you can’t help but automatically keep an eye on what the little troublemakers are up to. So, as I stood there with a glass of champagne involved in a very grown-up conversation, I still flinched when a 2-year old boy tried to grab an expensive looking glass with water from the breakfast bar. I told myself not to worry as it was not my responsibility. However, I just could not help it.
All in all, the kids were behaving pretty well, to be honest. They were also incredibly cute. And yet, I was not pleased when due to some shuffling and moving around, I was the one who ended up right next to them at the dinner table. Great, I thought to myself. Came out for a peaceful grown-up time, and ended up sitting with kids. Again. As if I am not surrounded by children during the day.
However, the turkey smelled and looked good, and the potato mash was calling my name in a steamy voice. That is fine, I told myself. Just ignore them and enjoy yourself.
The food just got served when the 2-year old boy suddenly made a loud noise and puked his butternut squash mash right out. All over the table in front of me and on what looked like an expensive suede chair.
The mother screamed in shock and everyone turned to stare. I had my fork up in the air about to take the first bite. Of course, you must remember that I am in a certain condition, which makes me overly sensitive to disgusting smells. I simply froze. All I could do was turn my face away and hold my breath so I did not suddenly throw up myself. The parents, of course, were terribly embarrassed. And I did feel sorry for them. But I was so distracted trying to not be sick that I was not controlling the words that came out of my mouth. So, when the father asked me to look after his daughter while he took the stinky chair out in the garden, I might have said ‘I paid 30 quid for a babysitter so that I did not have to look after any children tonight. ‘
I hope he did not take it badly. They did leave pretty soon after the incident. Not only the little boy puked all over the place, but the older girl was looking tired and unwell. ‘She is coming down with something’ the mother explained to me. ‘She is quite hot’
Great, I thought grumpily. You did not just bring two little kids to an evening dinner party, you brought two sick kids.
Now, can anyone remind me how on earth someone like me could be having another baby? I should not have ever been allowed to breed.