Why we don't eat out very often

Tonight when L got home, I was prepping dinner in the kitchen. He said, "Let's just go out to eat." After some hemming and hawing on my part, trying to figure out how to stopgap the meal and serve it tomorrow instead, I agreed.

We don't go out very often, as budget considerations don't allow. But the idea of not doing all the cooking and having dishes to wash suddenly released all the tension in my shoulders. The idea of having $2 off the best margarita in town at a restaurant nearby released all the tension in the rest of me.

We go to this place maybe once every three months, and the food is excellent. We sit down at the table, and our (very kid-friendly!) waiter comes to take our drink order. L gets a beer, I order my margarita and milks for the kids. The waiter walks away to retrieve the drinks while we start studying the food part of the menu.

Jellybean announces, rather loudly, "Mama, I know what you're having." And I said, "Oh really, what?" Then she practically yells, "A margarita!"

Like it doesn't look bad enough to be out to dinner with two very small children and having the stemmed glass towering in the middle of the table. The kid also has to advertise by word-of-mouth that her mom needs a strong drink. Awesome.