We are bad mommies

A basic truth of parenting: Just when you think you've got it mastered, something happens to prove that you don't know what the heck you're doing.

Case in point: Last night we were the picture of savvy, sophisticated, together urban parents. We took The Boy to a great Portland place called Bar Pastiche, essentially a tapas/wine bar in the very funky Hawthorne district. This is an adult place, with tiny little tables, low lighting and no highchairs. No problemo; Supermoms took care of the situation, and our desire to experience the essence of Portland even with a toddler in tow, by propping him up at the tapas bar. He loved it, and why not? He had kid-sized little portions, a lot of bustle to watch, cute waitresses with multiple tattoos cooing over him and his favorite stuffed animal, a white cat known as No Cat. We left feeling well-fed and self-satisfied. We know what we're doing. We can have a life and a kid. We even felt good enough about the night to take a swing through Fred Meyer -- imagine Target with a little more grime or KMart with a little less grit -- for some non-essentials.

Anybody care to guess what happened next? We were almost all the way back to the car when we realized No Cat was nowhere to be found. I made a mad dash back to the restaurant, then did a Family-Circus-style retracing of our steps through Fred Meyer. No No Cat.

Fast forward to this morning. The Boy woke up happy, as usual. And with a simple request: "Want No. Want No. Want Nooooo!" What do you tell a kid in this situation? Mommies lost No Cat? Mommies were too pleased with themselves to keep track of your toys? Mommies SUCK???

We managed to put him off this morning with the promise of breakfast and some shiny objects. Meanwhile, we're on the hunt for a white, fluffy kitty cat that will fool The Boy. And if anyone has seen No Cat, could you let us know? She's about five inches long, white bordering on grey, last seen in the vicinity of Bar Pastiche, SE Hawthorne Boulevard, Portland OR.