Meet the parents

My husband and I went to Chicago yesterday to meet my daughter's future inlaws who drove up to the Windy City from Kansas City the night before. We were to all meet at my daughter and her fiance's apartment at 2:00. Sounds simple right??

But what should I wear? More importantly, what does my husband have in his closet that will look "fatherish" and yet "fashionable." I searched his closet and decided he had nothing that fit either of those adjectives.

Off I go on my mission. To find an outfit for my husband and find something for myself to boot.

Mine was relatively easy. I knew I wanted to wear red. I think red makes a statement plus the fact I look pretty good in that color. Dress Barn proved the perfect store for me. Tried on a couple of red shirts and found IT! A stylish red trendy shirt that hid my muffin top but didn't look like maternity. It would look perfect with a pair of white capris. I was good to go.

Old Navy proved the perfect store for my husband's clothes. Found a pair of kaiki's that didn't look like "old man" and better yet, everything in the store was 30% off. Could it get any better?

I also stopped at KMart and picked up a couple more pants for him and some belts. I figured he could try them all on and pick what he liked.

Therein lies problem #1. My husband does not like to try on clothes, let alone model them for me. I swear the way he shops is he goes to the store closest to him at the time, grabs a pair of pants and shirts (and even shoes) and never tries them on. And if they fit, GREAT. If they don't fit, that's GREAT too, he'll still wear them.

And my husband is shrinking. Not around, but height wise. He used to be a 32 inseam when we got married, then a few years later I had to start hemming his 32's. So he bought 30 inseams and now I'm hemming those. He is now at the stage of buying 29 short and yes, I still have to hem them. 29 is as short as men's pants get. With my calculations, my husband has lost 4 inches in height. I keep telling him it's time for him to buy bigger heels......

But we are looking swell and ready to drive to Chicago. We arrive at the apartment at 1:29. 1/2 hour early but they are ready for us.

We then are introduced to the parents. Lovely people. Kind, caring, easy to talk with. There was an instant connection and we chatted the afternoon away. My daughter was being the perfect hostess serving wine to we drinkers and rootbeer to those that didn't indulge. Also had chips and dips. Couldn't have been nicer.

Time to go to Morton's Steakhouse for dinner. This is a very fancy restaurant. You know it is a fancy restaurant as soon as you open the menu and see that every piece of food is priced separately. No free salad or soup thrown in with the main entree. Drink menu was huge and my daughter politely suggested a wine for me. Thanks hon, whatever you say.

Ya know when you go to an amusement park, and they take your photo during the ride and sell it to you at the end of the ride? Same thing at this fancy restaurant. Only the photo is free. I thought that was a nice touch. The waiter, Michael, took our photo and said he would bring back several copies so we could all have a photo. Awwww, sweet Michael.

We ordered our drinks and our meals and we were just talking when Michael arrived back with our copies of the photos. He handed the photos to my daughter and I grabbed one to give to Paul's mother who was across the table. I reached across the table and while doing so, hit my glass of red wine which toppled over onto the WHITE tablecloth, onto my RED shirt and AAAAH, onto my WHITE capris!! Everyone at the table gasped. Die one million deaths. Here. Now.

I could feel the wine dripping off my lap onto the carpet. Michael quickly showed up with club soda and another WHITE napkin. Where did he come from??? But the stain was beyond the club soda "dabbing" period. The wine was now being soaked into my pants onto the skin of my upper left thigh.

Being the trooper mom of the bride that I am, I just waved off my embarrassment and we continued eating. I had lobster tail, my husband had prime rib. It was a meal fit for royalty.

Michael returns with complementary after dinner drinks. My pants are not yet dry so I think SURE, why not have another drink to kill some time. By now I am trying to figure out how I can walk out of this place with wine stained white pants and still hold my head up high.

But after the two glasses of wine, and an after dinner drink, I didn't much care who saw my wine drenched pants. And bless the future in laws as they didn't mention my polka dotted pants either as we exited the restaurant.

Now for some reason, I had packed an extra pair of pants. I have NEVER had a successful night wearing white pants. I seem to always spill or drop or dirty white pants every time I wear them. It just happens. I have learned to always bring a pair of extra BLACK stretch pants with me when I wear white. Thankfully, I had the DRY BLACK pants in the car and as soon as we got back to my daughter's apartment, on they went.

So the evening was a success. My daughter's future inlaws are delightful people who seem to love my daughter as much as my husband and I love their son. We said our goodbyes and my husband and I were back on Interstate 90 with our TomTom showing us the way.

I'm also thinking on the way home that of the 3 MOB dress choices hanging in my closet I am now opting NOT to wear the champagne color dress for the wedding. Too "light" thus too "dangerous." It is now a definite that I am going with the dark brown or dark cranberry color as there be wine drinking involved at the reception. I am also thinking that I should learn to like white wine....