Life After Kids Part II: Eating at a Restaurant

There is a huge debate going on right now as to whether children under a certain age (typically 5) should be allowed in certain restaurants. I really try not to be a judgy mcjudgerson when it comes to parenting, because lord knows I'm not a perfect parent, but I personally shudder at the thought of taking a bunch of children anywhere - much less a restaurant. Now, I know that some people (usually people who don't have kids or people who don't accurately remember what it was like to have small children or who currently only have blobby infants) will say, "Maybe its so miserable for you guys to eat out, because you can't control your kids. My kids (didn't/won't) act up in a restaurant!"

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Oookay. I just know that there is no surer way to be brought low and humbled, than to take a bunch of kids to a restaurant - any restaurant. Now, I'm not saying that you shouldn't take your kids out to eat! By all means, get out there and give 'em hell. Maybe you want to skip the fancy French restaurant for now, but there are a ton of places that you can take your family to eat. What I am saying is, going out to eat with kids, particularly toddler age kids is #complicated. You need to go into it prepared for anything.

Let's talk about some of the ways dining out B.C. (Before Children) differs from dining out A.C. (After Children). 

1. Sitting down at the table:

B.C. - "Muffy, I think I shall sit down now!"

A.C. - "O.K., this is the plan: you sit here between the older kids because Lord knows they will start fighting if they are next to each other. I will sit between the toddler and the baby BUT we need a high chair for the baby, so let's put it at the end of table. Wait, wait, you gotta move all the knives away from the baby cause she likes pointy things. Also, move the plates away from her. And the glasses. Shit, just clear the table in front of her. Did they forget to give us the coloring books and crayons? Just give her your phone."

2. Ordering food:

B.C. - "Good day, fine waiter! I shall order the filet - medium rare with a side of asparagus."

A.C. - "Babe, pass me the kid's menu. Kids, here are the options: chicken fingers, pasta with red sauce, cheeseburger, and hot dog.  What do you want? Really?? You guys just had dinosaur chicken nuggets for lunch. Why don't we try something different? Fine, pasta it is.  What do you mean no red sauce? I swear that if I hadn't given birth to you guys myself, I would question whether you were really my children. Are you sure you have to go to the bathroom? We just sat down two seconds ago."

3. Eating:

B.C. - ::chewing sounds::

A.C. - "O.K., here's the plan: You eat quick while I feed the baby and then we'll switch. If things start to go south, we'll just wrap it up and go home. Deal? Great. Please use your fork, son. I know it's tough to get the spagehtti on the fork, but...ugh, just give me the plate so I can cut them into tiny bits. Please sit down. What do you mean you're done? You've barely touched anything! If you kids don't eat, there will be no dessert for any of you. Sit, I said sit! You just went to the bathroom. It's like physically impossible for you to have to go again... Waiter, check please!"

I hate to say it, but when all else has failed, we have been known to resort to letting them use an iPad or phone to play games while they wait to eat. I know what you might be thinking: isn't a family dinner about staring into each other's eyes and connecting and talking about crap? Yes - when we're in our own damn house. When we're out to dinner, it's all about survival man. If that electronic device buys me two seconds to scarf down my cold entree - so screw me.  

I will say, we are big believers in removing a tantruming kid from the table and going outside or to the car until they're ready to stop acting the fool. It's just good manners and makes other people hate you less #themoreyouknow

It's fair to say that going to a restaurant with kids is...a different experience. But, I do think any time spent with the people you love (even if you kinda wanna choke 'em out*) is worth it in the end.

*totally kidding about the choking! My kids much prefer the time out cage in our basement ;)

Life After Kids Part I: Leaving The House

Do you remember what it was like to go places B.C. (that's Before Children)?

Ladies, do you recall the bliss of getting out of bed, taking a leisurely shower, getting dressed in a super cute outfit, applying your makeup (eyebrows on FLEEK!), blow drying your hair, grabbing your cute bag, opening the door, and just GOING.

Gentlemen, do you recall the ease of waking up in the morning and...going outside?

Yeah, me neither.

Let me paint you a picture of what things look like in my house every time we need to be somewhere at a particular time.

It is Saturday morning. We've known for about 2 months that we need to attend a party. For the purposes of this story, let's say it's a relative's birthday party. Because I know that things have a tendency to go off the rails really quick in my house, I tell my husband that we should probably start getting ready to go 2 hours in advance. The party starts at 3:00, it's a half hour drive, so we should start getting ready by 12:30. Sounds really responsible of us, doesn't it?  2 hours should be more than enough time to get our poop in a group and get to a party on time...for once.

Here's what actually happens in my house with four kids...

The baby goes down for a nap around 11:00. Fine, we'll let her sleep because she'll be cranky otherwise and really how hard is it to get her ready? We can save her for last. In the meantime, I start pissing away my time researching nonsensical things on the computer, while my husband falls into a coma on the couch.  The older kids are playing on the computer and my toddler son is running around the house with underwear on his head. He is Captain Underpants, of course. Everyone is still in their pajamas. Except me, you can't rightly call what I'm wearing pajamas. I have on old sweat pants with a hole in the butt area and a ratty t-shirt.

Before I know it, I look up and realize that its 2:00 o'clock and no one is ready!! I immediately panic. I shove my husband awake and yell, "We're screwed. We need to get ready now. Take a quick shower so you can get done first and help me with the kids." He stumbles off like a zombie toward the bathroom. I start yelling for the children, except I might as well be screaming into a black hole because no is paying me any mind.

Me: "Come on kids. We're late! Get upstairs to get dressed!"

Kid 1: "But Mommmmm (eye roll, foot stamp, eye roll). Why do we have to go anyway?

Kid 2: "Yeah, my legs are tired. Can I stay home?"

Me: "We are all going! No one is staying home. This is going to be fun, dammit."

Toddler: "I have to go caca."

Me: "So go caca! Why do you have to announce it like that?"

Toddler runs off to caca. I drag the older two upstairs and immediately begin rummaging through their dressers trying to find outfits that will be comfortable enough to play in but also cute because GOD FORBID my children's attire reflect the hot sticky messes that I know we are. Need to look sharp for the inevitable Facebook pics! Right?! Ugh. 

It's about this time that I feel IT starting to happen. What is IT you ask? IT is when the rage of having to rush around last minute because my family is incapable of managing time turns me into a screaming Puerto Rican version of the hulk. I am barking orders, I'm running up and down the stairs aimlessly, I'm tossing smoking hot ironed clothes at naked children. I got one shoe on and lipstick smeared across my forehead. It's freaking lord of the flies! Every man, woman, and child for themselves! 

My dear husband chooses this time to conveniently make his appearance. He is freshly bathed. There is smoke billowing out of the bathroom from his nice hot shower. I want to kill him so bad. Instead, I say, "get dressed quick and get the baby up!" Seeing murder in my eyes he quickly turns around to get the baby. It's about this time that I start to notice a tiny voice screaming from the downstairs bathroom. 

Crap! I forgot all about the toddler! He's screaming, "I'm doneeeee!!!" which is his way of telling me that he's ready for me to wipe his butt. 

Let's pause for a second. If someone stopped you in the club one night while you were in your swinging twenties and told you that one day you'd be another human being's personal ass wiper - at their beck and call for every bowel movement - would you believe them?  Drink up young readers!! I bring you tidings from the future. And that future looks like a parade of tiny butts attached to tiny people screaming "I'm doneeeee!!!" 

I have finally managed to get the 3 older kids dressed. I check on my husband and he's about done dressing the baby. I decide that there's no time for me to shower. I estimate that if we leave in the next 15 minutes we will only be about 20 minutes late for the party...FML. 

Once we are all downstairs, I realize that there is a fatal error in my timeline. It turns out that actually getting out of the front door with all four children is just as bad as trying to dress all four children. It is cold out so that means coats. It is a scientific fact that kids hate coats, also shoes, and long car rides. Every time I think I have one kid all suited up and ready to leave, I turn around to find the baby running around with one shoe on her foot and the other on her hand. Screw it. I grab the toddler and the baby and throw them into the car shoeless (we'll fix that later). The older ones shuffle into the car whining about how we're ruining their lives - the usual. 

My husband is a firefighter, so he basically drives every car like it's an emergency vehicle. We make it to the party only a half hour late. Sadly, I consider that on-time for our family. 

Invariably, someone at the party will say, "Four kids! I don't know how you guys do it!" The truth is, I don't know how we do it either.  I think we all just do what we need to do to get everyone to the next day in one piece.  Whether you have a menagerie of children like me, or you're a "one and done", parenting is hard. Don't forget to keep a sense of humor. And if your friends with a lot of kids are ever late to your party, just know that we really wish we could have left the kids at home too. 

No body likes to get dressed up :(

Jingle Hell

When your kids start to out number you, you quickly find that doing stuff you used to take for granted becomes hard. Really hard. Like soul sucking hard. For example, going out into public. I have four kids, so anytime I get to leave the house with just one or two kids, I sometimes get a little cocky. Hey, I've gone lots of places with all four in tow and it was fine ... ish. I mean, no one died, got lost, or got arrested, so that's a success! Right? 

Well, let's talk about my oldest son's Holiday concert. My husband was working, so I decided to take my two youngest with me to the show. My oldest daughter attends a different school, so it was just me and my two little shadows: Thing 1 who is three years old and Thing 2 who is one. 

The concerts at my oldest son's elementary school are held in the auditorium. It is always packed on concert days, so, a wise woman would do well to get there early. Unfortunately, I am not a wise woman, so after parking 2 miles from the school and carrying one kid and dragging the other, I made it into the building. Ok, feeling a little sweaty, but no big deal. Brush it off. You made it! Now, let's find a place to sit. 

I scanned the crowd and actually found two seats near the front! My luck is changing, I thought, as I sat Thing 1 on a chair and put Thing 2 in my lap. Easy peasy. We'll just sit here and enjoy the show. Alas, it was not to be. 

I don't believe I actually saw any of the show. My eyes were fixed on my one year old who was doing her best imitation of Gollum screaming "MINE" every time I tried to take something dangerous out of her hands. Where was she finding these dangerous objects? In my freaking purse. But here's the kicker, I let her rifle through my purse in the hopes that it would distract her long enough to get us through the concert. But once you open Pandora's purse, there's no turning back. I had created a monster. She must have snatched every pointy thing from my bag: my keys, a pen, a metal credit card case. It quickly turned into a game of tug of war. She, trying to pull the bag and its stabby contents to her chest and me, desperately trying to pull it away from her in the opposite direction. She was enjoying scattering my business cards all over the floor and sucking on my keys and was not about to give up the bag. "Why is she so strong?" I thought to myself desperately as I continued wrestling with her. 

It was about this time, that she reached into my bag and angrily pulled out one of the maxi pads I keep in there for emergencies and tossed it across the aisle. She looked up at me with an expression that said, "Your move, bitch." Of course I let go of the bag and scrambled after the maxi pad. 

By this time I am actively sweating. I am faintly aware that my son's class is singing, so I pop my head up periodically to smile at him. He appears to be mouthing the words to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas. "It's really lovely, but I'm kind of busy whisper-screaming at my daughter to please shut up and sit on my lap. I find myself frantically offering her various bribes, except that's useless cause she's one and doesn't give a damn about anything and cannot be bought. She laughs and gives me a toothy grin as she tosses a business card for a company called "Pure Romance" (don't ask) over her shoulder. I resemble a gopher, periodically popping my head up to smile encouragingly at my miserably singing son or snap a fuzzy cell phone picture. 

Throughout all of this, my youngest son is actually behaving! He's sitting next to me fairly quietly. Thank God for that, right? Wrong. As soon as the show ends, it's his turn to go rogue. As everyone is filing out, he decides that he's mad as hell and he's not gonna take it anymore. He throws himself onto the floor and begins to wail! I have my daughter on one hip and I'm trying to pull him to his feet, but he's gone boneless. He now weighs at least 100 pounds and I can't seem to pull him up. I decide, "Screw this, I'm just gonna leave him there!" and I start to walk away. He is not following me and I'm starting to get the stink eye from other parents observing the scene. The school principal even goes up to my wailing child in an attempt to console him. He looks at me like "Lady, is this your kid?" I avoid his stare pretending not to know the child who now seems to be speaking in tongues. 

After a few more seconds, I decide that I've finally had enough. Even if I have to drag him out by one foot, I'm getting out of there. I don't care who's watching (or judging). As if he sensed the impending danger, Thing 1 stops crying. I pull him to his feet and hightail it out of there. Needless to say, it was not my most successful kid outing! 

What's the lesson here? Kids can be little assholes sometimes and the degree of assholery will increase in direct proportion to how important it is for them to be quiet. Attending a festive holiday concert? Your little asshole might pull some sanitary napkins out of your purse and toss them at the horrified old lady sitting next to you. These things happen people! And...you will get through it. You might have to enter witness protection for a few years, but it will pass. And when they look at you and smile in the way only they can, you'll remember: they will only be this little once.  Enjoy the ride. It goes super fast.