For my birthday this year, I chose to eat at Bisetti's Italian Ristorante in Old Town. A meal at Bisetti's was long overdue. We used to go there about twice a year for special occasions, but hadn't been since I was pregnant.
Phaeton, Adeleigh and I walked inside, put our name in and were told it'd be a 30-40 minute wait. It'd be well worth the wait, and I had been craving Italian all week, so we were going to wait. We sat down in the bar and asked the bartender for a mug of hot water to warm up a bottle for the little one. Everyone at the bar looked our way. The bartender paused, then said, "Let me see what I can find." He brought back a pitcher of steaming water and took our wine order. I was feeling slightly intimidated. We sat down, I was holding Adeleigh, and we started to sip our wine. I began to question if this was a family-friendly atmosphere and whether or not we should stay. I didn't see any other children. I turned and asked Phaeton if he thought we should leave. I didn't want to disrupt anyone's quiet, romantic evening out. He said, "It's your birthday, who cares what these people think? No one will notice anyway." A lady and her husband walked by and the lady said, "Look! There's a baby in here!" As if a baby in a bar was out of the ordinary. She was being quiet and calm. She really is a very good baby. No matter how much anxiety I feel when we go out in public, she's always been so relaxed and content.
Adeleigh started to squirm, so we tried to entertain her with the plethora of pink things that we lugged into the restaurant, just in case. She was more interested in playing with the crisp, freshly printed wine list and shiny silverware though. They called our name and sat us towards the back. There was no highchair at the table, so the hostess went to go look for one. I'm pretty sure she had to pull the highchair out of the attic, dust the cobwebs off and find the little Italian mouse family a new home.
We sat down. Phaeton grabbed the knife out of Adeleigh's hand, looked to me and said, "Drink your wine." The two ladies at the table next to us stared and said, "As long as she sits there like a good girl, we all can have a nice relaxing dinner." Adeleigh was being a good girl! A little squirmy was all. I wondered what they'd say if she had a meltdown....Then, she screamed. Not a bad scream, just an "I need some more attention" scream. We tried to distract her by pulling out more snacks and toys. The two ladies switched to a different table. Phaeton saw my anxiety building and said, "Drink your wine."
The hostess came back and said, "Would she like some crayons to play with?" I said, "Thank you, but no. She'll just eat them and then we'll be changing crayon diapers." We ate our appetizer and salad, then our pasta dish arrived. By this point, she was distracted by the chandeliers above. There was a stone-cold couple across the room she noticed and tried to get to smile by throwing her toys on the ground. They weren't amused. Probably because she was throwing her toys right in the path of the oncoming waiter that had their food. I ran over, apologized, picked up her toys, and sat back down. Phaeton said, "Drink your wine."Then the Zombie growls started. I think she's watched one too many of her dad's movies. She was still being good, just a little loud. And we could tell she was getting tired. I didn't want people to have their nice, date night out interrupted by Zombie-Baby. So, Phaeton ate another bite of his pasta, grabbed the growling child and said to me, "You are not leaving this restaurant until you finish that entire glass of wine and the rest of my pasta. We'll be outside, but take your time." He gave me a kiss. "And Happy Birthday." What a sweet husband he is. I sat there for about ten minutes with my Malbec and two bowls of unfinished basil chicken.
Then, I looked over at the two ladies and was suddenly reminded that while we were in a fancy restaurant, we were still in easygoing, "Save the Poudre", butt-cheek baring Fort Collins. Their Birkenstocks paired with their Coach handbags gave that one away. What other city can you wear socks with sandals, Chacos with a wedding dress, high heels on a bike, cowboy boots with a mohawk and bolo tie and blend in? This is the town where, if someone cuts you off while driving, you never honk your horn. Instead, you blow them a kiss. However, if someone throws a water bottle in the wrong waste receptable, you give them the bird (but probably not where they can see you). I love this town. And people here are friendly and understanding. And I suddenly realized that it didn't matter that we brought our baby to a fancy restaurant. Because this is Fort Collins. And it was my birthday. And I wanted my family there.
I finished my wine. I grabbed the food to-go, grabbed a handful of Bisetti's yummy after-dinner mints (because it was my birthday, I could grab a handful) and walked outside to see my smiling husband and baby waiting for me. I gave them a hug. Then a bare-footed half-naked hippie rode by on his unicycle.
I love this place.
And I couldn't resist -
My almost 1-year-old Adeleigh and my 11-year-old Birkenstocks.
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