After the ceremony, we moved into an adjacent courtyard for appetizers. A mariachi band serenaded us, and we made our way through the crowd, greeting and hugging relatives. It was great to see everybody, and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, my brother Smed shared some incredibly happy news of his own. (I'm getting a new sister-in-law, and I'm THRILLED!)
So it was a pretty awesome evening. The sun was setting, and lit up the sky in a soft orange haze. It was the perfect evening, in the perfect setting. Until...
A waiter circled through the crowd, gently herding the crowd toward the tables on the lawn. As I passed my brother Smed, he snickered and said, "You're at the kid's table!"
I looked at him, confused, as my mom dragged me off to the seating chart. And sure enough, Smed was right.
My table was all kids--my son, my nieces, my nephew, and my cousin's kids.
I just stared at my mom.
"It's okay, Kathleen's at your table, too," she said. And then I felt even worse, because Kathleen doesn't even have any kids!
I adore my nieces and my nephew, and my son. I would've hung out with them anyway, checking in on them throughout the night. I wasn't upset about their company, per se, because I love those kids. It was the whole spinster aunt/babysitter vibe I had a problem with. There were no other parents at our table.
You'd think they'd seat Kathleen with her mom, and Scott and Mary with their kids. Somehow, Kathleen ticked off the seat planner, and Juan paid the price!
But I made the best of the situation. I was gracious, understanding, and demure.
OK, no, I was not. In reality, I collected up all the champagne on the table, and split it with Kathleen. I then proceeded to drink too much, say bad words, and let all the children gorge on candy before dinner. I was seated at the kid's table--might as well act as if I belonged. I figured if I was gonna be publicly humiliated, I was gonna do it on my terms.
"We can eat all the candy?" my cousin's kid, Lauren, asked, incredulously.
"Do what you want," I said. "I'm not in charge."
The only time that comment didn't work was when Grant started arguing with Mark. I shushed them both, as Kathleen reminded me, "You're not the babysitter!"
I nodded, then pointed at Mark and said, "I know, but this one's mine, so I actually do have to discipline him."
Turns out, despite the public humiliation and marital status discrimination, I had a pretty good time. But hey, that may be all the glasses of wine talking. Because Scott rounded us up immediately after dinner, and said we were going home. It was only 9:30!
Oh, well. So I got banished to the kid's table. That's the bad news. The good news is I won't have to worry about that again, since I probably won't be invited back to any more weddings. (Did I mention the dinnertime karaoke at our table?)
But that doesn't matter. The married people can have their lovey-dovey romantic evenings back--I won't be at the next family wedding. I'll be at the bars with my single friends, whooping it up, and having a blast.
WITHOUT kids.
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