Hi! I'm Beth Rodriguez, and I'm the "organizer" of Moms' Night Out, which means I am the one who calls everybody, picks the restaurant when nobody else will, and keeps the babysitting points in a spiral notebook that my four-year-old has decorated with stickers. It's a big job. I take it very seriously. (I do not.)

Moms' Night Out started in March of 1998 when four of us from the preschool pickup line realized we had been standing in that line together for two years and had never once finished a sentence. We went out for Mexican food. We stayed until they stacked the chairs. Eighteen months and a few recruits later we are eight, and this page exists mostly so I can stop photocopying the rules and the dates and sticking them in everyone's mailbox. Also so my husband can see that it's a real thing with a web page and not, quote, "just dinner."

1. No kid talk after 8:00 p.m. Before eight, you can say anything. Ear infections, potty training, that thing your mother-in-law said. Get it out. At eight o'clock Donna taps her glass with a spoon and from then on, if you mention your children, your husband, the PTA, the pediatrician, or what anyone is having for a science project, you put a dollar in the jar. The jar buys dessert. The jar has never once failed to buy dessert.
2. You can be late but you can't be a no-show. Life happens. Call the restaurant and tell them to tell us. We'll order you something.
3. Nobody drives after more than one glass. We carpool from the church lot. Two drivers a month, and the drivers drink iced tea and get to pick the music.
4. No diet talk. Order what you want. Eat what you order. Nobody wants to hear about your points, and I say that as the person who counts the other kind of points.
5. What is said at Moms' Night Out stays at Moms' Night Out. Especially the thing Karen said in August. Karen, we love you.
6. Home by eleven. Not because anyone makes us. Because we are all going to be up at six regardless, and we have learned this the hard way.
7. New members need one sponsor and one dinner. If you come once and you laugh and you don't break rule 1 more than three times, you're in. We are capped at eight because that is the largest table at Villa Rosa.

First names only, because a couple of the husbands are funny about the Internet. Between us we have nineteen children, ages 9 months to 14 years, four dogs, a hamster on its third replacement, and one minivan each. (Denise has two. Nobody knows why.)

We go in a loop so nobody has to argue. Whoever's turn it is to "host" calls ahead for the table. We have exactly five restaurants in this town that will seat eight women on a Thursday and not seat us next to the kitchen door, so here they are.

• Villa Rosa (Italian, on the square). The original and the favorite. The big round table in the back is basically ours. Get the eggplant. Do not get the seafood special; ask Michelle why.
• El Sombrero (Mexican, out by the highway). Where it all started. Chips arrive before you sit down. The waiter knows to bring the jar its own chair.
• The Copper Kettle (American, downtown). The "nice" one. We go here in December and wear real shoes. Reservation required.
• Golden Wok (Chinese, in the plaza). The big lazy Susan table. Cheap, fast, and the fortune cookies get read aloud with "in bed" added, because we are very mature.
• Pete's Pizza & Pub (pizza, by the high school). The emergency option, when someone had a week. Nobody has to dress up. Pitchers. Jukebox. You know the kind of place.

Rotation for fall: October, Villa Rosa (Gina hosting) · November, Golden Wok (Patty hosting) · December, The Copper Kettle (Donna hosting, and it's the holiday dinner so we do a $10 gift swap, funny gifts only, no candles).

This is the part people ask about most, because it's the part that makes the whole thing possible. Eight moms going out at once means eight houses need a sitter at once, and there are not eight trustworthy teenagers in this zip code. So we do it ourselves, the rest of the month.

How it works:

• Every mom starts with 10 points.
• Watching another mom's kids earns you 1 point per child per hour. After 9 p.m. it's 2 points an hour, because bedtime is combat pay.
• Having your kids watched costs you the same.
• Points are tracked in The Notebook (see above, stickers). Tell me by the first of the month and I'll update the tally and read it out at dinner, before eight, because it's technically kid talk.
• You can't go below -15. If you're down there, you sit for somebody before you go out again. This has happened to one person. It was me. In April. I have learned.
• Husbands can sit for the swap and earn points for the family. Husbands who sit for the swap are to be praised extravagantly in front of other husbands. This is policy.

On Moms' Night Out itself, the two dads who lose the coin toss take everybody's kids at one house with pizza and a video. Nineteen kids, two dads, one living room. They have survived every time so far and they say it's easier than it sounds, which we don't believe, but we let them say it.

Current standings (as of September 25): Denise is way ahead with 31, because she is a saint. Lorraine is at 4, which is fine, Lorraine, you have a baby. Everybody else is between 6 and 18. I am at 9. Legally.

January's date will be picked in December, once we see everyone's holiday travel. There is no November-and-December-are-too-busy exception. There has never been. Don't ask.

I'll be serious for one paragraph and then I'll stop.

Being home with little kids, or working and then coming home to little kids, is the best thing I've ever done and it is also, some weeks, the loneliest. You talk all day and none of it is a conversation. You are somebody's mom, somebody's wife, somebody's ride. One Thursday a month, for four hours, at a round table in the back of an Italian restaurant, I am Beth, and seven women who know me laugh at my jokes and I laugh at theirs and nobody needs anything from me except to pass the bread. That's it. That's the whole thing. It costs about $22 with tip, and a few sitter points, and it has kept every one of us sane at one point or another. Patty says it's cheaper than therapy and she's a medical professional.

If you don't have one of these, start one. You need four moms, a restaurant with a big table, and a jar. The rules are above. Take them, they're free. Rule 1 is the important one. Trust me on rule 1.

Okay, I'm done. See you Thursday the 7th. Don't be a no-show. Bring cash.

~ Beth