We walked into the restaurant and the waitresses gave each other the eye. Oh great, here they are, they thought. I wonder why they thought that?! As we walk in the door, my toddler is screaming that she wants a burger in a pizza place. Fabulous. And, the baby is kicking her legs around and wanting to throw herself on the floor to crawl. In case they didn’t know, now they do….we are here!
In all fairness, we got there at 4:30; there was nobody there. But, I’m sure they don’t care what time it is. They only know that it is going to be a lot of clean up after. And a lot of loud noise during…
So, here we are…guns a blazing….
Within a minute, a plate had already hit the ground. BAM! The baby’s veggie pouch was all over the linens. SPLAT! All the knives were already removed from our table and moved to another. Speaking of tables…I’m under it…looking for Sophie the giraffe for the baby. This is minute one. It was definitely a spiral after that. Did I even eat? My daughter is practically falling out of her chair every other minute. I think I caught her 3 or 4 times. The baby is whining…getting tired. Let’s entertain her by playing peekaboo across the table; in between bites no less.
Seriously though, why do we decide to do things like this? It is hard work. You don’t even get to enjoy your dinner. You really don’t get to talk much. It’s man on man defense. Get it done so we can go home and collapse on the couch. The biggest benefit of dinner out, is not having to cook or clean. On a regular night, it is 10:00pm by the time the kids are bathed, in bed, dinner is eaten and the kitchen is cleaned. So, in that respect, it is worth it.
Church was another story. Why would we decide to go to the longest mass of the year during the witching hour? My husband definitely walked the baby around the entire church while mass was in progress. In a sea of all sitting heads, he was the one standing. I could see him across the entire length of the church…and it is big. A bopping head. Bopping the baby around so she doesn’t lose it. I would put my head down and then look up and he would be on the other side of the church. Bopping. The things we do?!
Meanwhile, my toddler is on the floor between the pews in complete and utter boredom. Talking LOUD to herself! Wanting to go home! Moments like that are moments that I feel like walking out the door; giving up. I’m tired at this point. It was a long dinner and an even longer mass. I feel like waving my husband down and pointing to the door. Let’s get out of here...Dearest Church; I’ll see you in 3 years. But, like exercise, it is worth it when it is over. So we did it. We stayed until the end. And then, patted ourselves on the back afterward, happy we stayed.
And, when we got home, we put the kids to bed and collapsed on the couch. “That was fun,” my husband said. “Yea,” I replied, “it was fun.” And then I closed my eyes and fell asleep within minutes; the calm after the storm.
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