When I pulled a cream-colored envelope out of my mailbox this morning, the first thing I did was cringe. Right next to my name was my ex-boyfriend's, inscribed in red calligraphy. We'd been invited to my childhood friend's engagement party. When I opened the card, I saw that it was sent by my friend's mom, who probably wasn't privy (I soon made her so) to the fact that we'd broken up in March. I RSVPed right away, with a little note about my real date.

After all, I'm bringing the cutest, sweetest, most delicious being, who rocks my world from morning to night ... my daughter.

What? you say. Why would you bring your seven-year-old to a grown-up party?

After all, in addition to the booze that will be served, I'm certain that some single, hot, hunky men will be lolling about.

But right now, dating my kid feels easy and worry-free - much simpler than, say, dating a man. My daughter, who's now in first grade, loves a good party, especially when it involves anything with sugar. The worst-case scenario I can envision is, say, her spilling fruit punch all over her white dress.

Don't get me thinking about the worst-case scenarios with a real, live male date. After all, having just extracted myself from my first long-term relationship since becoming a single mom, in 2000, I'm fresh on the scene again: which means that first I'd have to actually get out there and find a date. I thought about putting an ad on Craig's List: "Hi, I'm an attractive, witty, 34-year-old single mom who needs a man next Saturday ...."

But what if I brought some stranger who drank too much wine and loudly told obscene jokes? What if he decided to ditch me for the sour cream dip?

For now, dating my kid is a breeze because:

  • She's a great conversationalist. (Her: "That lady over there is fat like Grandpa." Me: "Shhhhh!!")
  • She's perfectly happy to fetch more hors d'oeuvres for me. ("Mommy, does that mean I can have another chocolate?")
  • She's a great dancer, especially when it involves being dipped.


And I'm used to it. Since my daughter was a baby, I've been bringing her to grown-up birthday parties, concerts and weddings. I'd just tuck her into my BabyBjörn and walk around like she was an embellishment. Other adults used to ooh and aah over her, asking, "Oh, can I please hold her?" I also used to breast-feed in public, but that's another story altogether.

Now that my daughter is a big girl, adults comment about how well-behaved she is. With single men at the party, of course, it's a different matter.

"Daddy must be proud," men often say.

"There's no daddy," I reply, after which there's a slight shuffle of the feet.

"Uh, what I mean is, I'm a single mom-" I try to explain.

In the long run, I know that I won't be dating my kid forever. We both need our "alone time," as I call it, in order to grow. Dragging her along to every adult event wouldn't be a good thing for her growth - or mine. But for this party, she'll do just fine.

      Rachel Sarah is the single mom of a seven-year-old daughter. Her dating memoir, "Single Mom Seeking: Playdates, Blind Dates and Other Dispatches From the Dating World," was published this year. Visit her at singlemomseeking.com.