I work the occasional weekend night at a local pub in addition to my 8-5. Last night was one of those. I must be insane - what person in their right mind works an extra night right after her first full week back at work? Obviously, I wasn't feeling much like working, but we're so broke, I went for it anyway. Nos had gone out to a friend's house party at around 6, and he was under instructions to return by 8:30, so I could start my shift at 9. Of course, he got back closer to 8:45, and was clearly a little buzzed.

It was dead as a doornail in the pub, and the idea was that I would get off early. I thought this was pretty fantastic, and planned on sticking around the pub for a few hours after my shift to read the paper, have a beer or two, and chat with the few regulars I actually like. Nos and the baby would be fine at home, right? She's been going to bed around 10pm, so I figured he'd just stay home and watch TV. Wrong! I called him to let him know the deal, and that I planned on being home at 12:30 or 1am. His response? "Oh, you should come back up to the party with me."

He had my baby. In his car. While he was a bit tipsy. On the way to a PARTY?!?!?

What the hell?

This party had been described to me earlier on in the day as a bonfire in the middle of a field. His plan was to leave Rev in the car next to the bonfire so he could sit and drink with his buddies, checking in on her occasionally. Now, I think we're all picturing the same thing here. Drunk people, cigarettes, pallets being flung on a raging fire, puking and pissing in darkened corners... Man, I was pissed! However, I hung up the phone somewhat lamely, and went to go get a second opinion from my coworkers. Maybe I was overreacting?

Nope. Their responses were even more horrified than my own. Nos had told me there were other young children there in an attempt to soothe my fears, but when asked how old they were, he replied, "Oh, I don't know... Walking age?" Our child is 13 weeks old, not one or two years old! Big difference!

I had that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and was well on my way to a full-fledged anxiety attack. My coworkers told me to go ahead and get out of there to rescue the kiddo. I called Nos for directions, and could practically see him rolling his eyes at my fears. A dark, 1/2 hour-long car ride later, I arrived at my destination, which was at the top of a mountain road, full of hairpin turns. Not the kind of road you want to be on in the dark, never mind with a couple of drinks in you. I got out of the car and walked towards the party.

Heh.

The field? Was a big yard.

The bonfire? Was a small, cinderblock lined affair.

The party? Was about 10 people, including 5 kids under the age of 4.

Oops. So maybe I overreacted a little after all. Nos and I had a little chat about describing things accurately.

We ended up staying for several hours, eating skewers and chatting while listening to country music. Rev slept in her carseat nearby, and didn't make a peep the entire evening. Nos got pretty toasted, and I drove us home in the wee hours. We just went and picked up his car a few minutes ago.

That whole drinking and driving thing is still unresolved, but he insists he only had a couple of beers at the party his first time there in the afternoon. Still, I wonder if he would even have told me he was taking the baby back up there if I'd worked until 3:30am as scheduled. And would he really have only had one more beer, as he swears would have been the case had I not been there to drive?

With Rev around, I find myself wondering so much more about the what ifs... I can't bear to imagine anything bad happening to her.