A family Vegas vacay reared a racy end as I somehow ended up in my bra and panties five feet away from Scott Foley.
Kooding top | Reformation "Winona" jeans | Topshop via Nordstrom cardigan | Gucci "GG Marmont" belt bag | Marni mules | Kendall and Kylie "Sienna" sunnies
Oh Vegas, how different you look with a baby in tow. What was once an alcohol drenched den is now a family friendly playground filled with repeated trips to the M&M Chocolate Factory and its counterpart, the Nestle Tollhouse Store. Fancy dinners and stuffing my face at the buffet are dust in the wind as many meals start and end at the Rainforest Cafe where Rachel the server shouts out specials of the day underneath a giant fake mushroom. Dinner is quiet and involves sitting in front of our TV devouring take-out in silence because baby is asleep in the next room. And we must not wake up the baby. Pool life, once swipe right cesspools affectionately called day clubs, is now a zone of caution where we tread lightly in the kiddie pool and bark out "be carefuls" at each other every two minutes. But the baby is having fun and loves splashing water directly into my eyes. And into my hair breaking my lifetime record for never getting my hair wet in pools. Oh the defeat.
Oh our way back from Vegas, we hit traffic. After six uncomfortable hours of stop and go, the baby starts fussing, we are completely stopped, and I've pulled out all the tricks in my bag. So I take him out of the car seat for just a few minutes. He's such an opportunist and proceeds to throw up right then and there. The vomit misses him but hits me full force covering my shirt and pants and parts of my precious fanny pack (outfit in the photos). I can't bear the thought of pulling over and digging through luggage for fresh clothes so I take them off and brazenly ride home in bra and panties. As we finally pull into the driveway, I glance over at my neighbor's house and see a small group huddled in front casually chatting. My eagle eyes immediately descend upon Scott Foley in the group and I instinctually try to open the door to jump out and chat him up until my dear husband gently reminds me of my unclothed state.
Not only are Vegas trips forever changed, it appears our neighbors are cooler than us.
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