That’s right. Spend a day with my kids and myself and I may just prevent any or all of you planning-to-be-parents to not only change your mind, but to also run screaming to the nearest snip doctor to get a tubal or vasectomy. You do not even have to spend the entire day with me, just one meal at a restaurant will suffice.
Point in case: Last Friday, the boys and I went to dinner with two of the WNLS, Purple and Nannie. We had planned to go to dinner the week before, and the entire week, I thought I would be able to go myself and leave the boys with Hot Papa. Of course, I get a call from him Friday afternoon telling me that he has to work late. Faaaaaack.
I offer to reschedule with Purple because I would have to bring the boys. She says, “Oh, no, that is fine! Bring them! It will be FUN!” Fun, huh? If you were comparing, say, having all of your toenails ripped out one by one to having dinner at a nice rice restaurant with kids, then I guess the dinner could be considered ‘fun.’ If you are comparing dinner at a nice restaurant with kids to a dinner at a nice restaurant without…well, fun would not be the first word that I would think of.
We make plans to meet around 6:30, but Purple got out of work late and had to stop at home first. By the time we get to the restaurant, it was around 7:30PM. Poor Purple had had a long ass day at work. All she wanted to do was have a nice glass of sangria and a yummy dinner.
We walk in and the hostess gives us one of those little things that vibrate when your table is ready. They only give you one. Not two. So we spent the fifteen minute wait trying to break up the fight between E-man and Smiley over who got to hold the vibrating thing. They keep taking it off of each other. They both have tears in their eyes.
Smiley notices a plant in the corner by the door. What is the first thing that YOU think when you see a plant? Why, lets go rip the leaves off of it, of course! He brings me a pile of leaves, and shoves some into my purse. I guess he figures if there is nothing that he likes on the menu, he can just eat the leaves?? Who knows. Then he has to poop, which he announces to the entire waiting room of people.
I take him into the bathroom, and sit him on the pot. He sits there for a minute, looks around, tries to unravel the entire roll of toilet paper, pees about 2 drops and says, “Mommy, I don’t wanna poop. I wanna wash my handssssss!!!!!” He does this everywhere we go. He just wants to see the bathrooms of Pittsburgh without actually having to use them.
We walk out and E-man is now sitting on a bench next to Purple, trying to get her phone. He wants to play games on it. He wants to take pictures. He wants his own phone. He looks at me and asks when he can have one. “You’re five,” I say. “you will not be getting a phone for many years.” Pout, sulk, snarl. Kids are just so sweet, right?
We finally vibrate and get to our table. This particular restaurant has big chairs that are on wheels, so I figure that a high chair will be best for Smiley. Boy was I wrong. He liked the wheelie chair and when I tried to move him, he had a fit. Fine, stay in the damn chair.
We order a giant pitcher of peach sangria and a sprite for the each of the boys. When the drinks arrive, the boys of course do not want sprite. They want the giant pitcher of sangria. Especially Smiley, that little lush. There are strawberries, orange, and lime slices in the pitcher. Smiley becomes convinced that something in the pitcher is an actual frog, and he begins screaming this at the top of his lungs.
Smiley: Der’s a fwoggy in dat glass, mommy.
HM: No there’s not. Be quiet.
Smiley: Fwoggy in da glass. FWOGGY IN DA GLASS!!! RIBBETT!!
HM: Be quiet! Shhhhh. It’s not a froggy.
SMILEY: FWOGGYS IN DER!! MOMMMMMYYYYY!!! FWOGGGGY!!!! Ribbett.
HM: Ok, fine, there’s a froggy in there. You’re right. Now be quiet.
Smiley: Fwoggy in der mommy?
HM: Yes. Shhhh.
Smiley: Ky have it? Ky have da fwoggy?
HM: No. Shhhhhhhhh. Stop talking.
I finally distract him by shoving a sizable breadstick into his mouth. This is when E-man starts acting up. He takes a huge swallow of his Sprite and belches loudly enough for McKnight Road to hear. A hush falls over the restaurant. Scuse me, he says. I burped. Well thank you Captain Obvious.
E-man wants spaghetti and Smiley wants pizza. Until it gets there, of course. Then they just want dessert. And they don’t shut up about it for the next 20 minutes that we are eating dinner. They want ice cream, they want cookies, they want an order of embarrass-the-shit-out-of-your-mom with whipped cream a cherry on top.
By some miracle, we survive to the end of the meal without being yelled at or asked to leave. The boys get their ice cream and are silent for the first time since we arrived at the restaurant. I look over at Purple. She looks a little pale. “How do you do this? I don’t know how you do this everyday. I’m exhausted just looking at them.”
Me too. I am exhausted. I am run down. I am chugging peach sangria likes it’s my job and I’m up for a promotion. I look at Smiley. He smiles. I look at E-man…and he suddenly puts his arm around me and says, “I love you mommy. You’re so beautiful.” And then he kisses me on the cheek…a big vanilla ice cream smooch.
That right there is how I do it every day. I plug away through the trying moments because I know that at the end of the day (or least at some point during the week) those little boys will show me why it’s all worth it.
If you don’t believe me, though, I am free for dinner this Friday…anyone interested in having us over?
Big Vanilla Ice Cream Smooches to All!!
Hot Mama ❤