So I finally let someone other than my parents keep my kids...overnight. I had to talk myself into it, you know, because I am a paranoid, neurotic totally attached mother. These things are instilled into you when you become pregnant for a reason. A reason that I will get to in just a moment.
The weekend got off to a somewhat good start. Went shopping for shoes, for me, and a tie for Mike. He promised he wouldn't complain, and he didn't for the first 30 or so shoes I tried on. I managed to find him a tie that coordinated extremely well with the outfit I had chosen to wear to his cousin's wedding the next day.
I went and got my toes done, came home and packed the kids up and sent them to my parent's house until our friend, who ASKED to babysit our kids, got off work. Ansley and Joey were both extremely comfortable with this girl and her husband, who was supposedly Mike's best friend since like 7th grade, so I figured the time had come for me to let go a little. Common sense just flew out the window. We went to the wedding and reception, had a nice but boring time. Called to check on the kids and they were fine. Went for sushi, it was wonderful! Next we stop in to see the kids and kiss them goodnight. All was well and the kids had not been crying or anything. Our other friend, who just happens to be the best friend's brother, was hanging out and playing with the kids, which was fine because he is over here at least twice a week with us.
While watching a movie later I start feeling weird and missing the kids. In bed around 1 in the morning, I just couldn't handle it anymore, I cried and Mike called to check on them. Supposedly everything was fine. Now I know my kids. They are a handful and a half near bedtime. But we manage to fall asleep and wake up around 11 the next morning. Went and got coffee and donuts and by the time I got back the kids were home. They seemed fine, tired, but fine.
The brother calls me later that day as I am unloading the dishwasher. Asks me what all was said about the night before. DING DING DING!!!! Warning bells go off with a statement like that. I ask him to tell me and he knows I am getting pissed, so he won't tell me and I get off the phone. Mike comes home a few hours later and I tell him and he calls the brother. Gets the story, at least part of it anyway. The dumbasses had a housefull of friends over and they were drinking and smoking pot. With my babies there!!!! It does not take a fucking genius to know that those things and babies were not meant to go together. They know how we feel about those things. Mike will not even smoke cigarettes around our kids! To think that I trusted them with my most precious irreplaceable possessions. Thank god the brother stayed there with my babies until 5 in the morning watching them. I owe him so much for watching out for them.
What the fuck though, I never let anyone watch my kids and the first time I do, this happens. My kids could have been taken away from me had something happened and the police called. We are all okay though. Everything happens for a reason. I think those fucking pot smoking idiots ought to be hung by their toenails. Lesson learned, right?