I love my children more than anything in this world. But…..there are times that if a gypsy caravan rolled up, I would not hesitate to trade them for a scarf.
Last night was one of those times.
Night out at the Olive Garden:
The good times begin with the all too familiar packing up of the kids. Always an exhilarating experience! There’s nothing like having your 6-year-old endlessly freak out about having to wear pants, while your newborn craps himself at the exact moment you FINALLY get him secured in his car seat. Successful start to the evening….CHECK!
Next begins the car ride. You know, there was a time that I actually enjoyed driving. Those days are no more. Heather and I have been blessed with a very rare type of baby: one that seems allergic to the soothing sounds of a moving car, and who finds it very necessary to express his extreme displeasure to all who will listen for the entirety of a trip.
Have you ever tried driving while having a Turrets attack, accompanied with an aneurism?
30 min later, we arrive at the restaurant. Ears ringing, blood pressure soaring like an eagle. We unload the fart sacks and make our way in to the restaurant.
I make eye contact with the hostess, and quickly begin shooting my mind bullets at her:
“For all that’s good and holy….put us in the corner where we belong lady”
Thankfully, she was a-tune to my telepathic ways and promptly seats us away from the childless patrons, thus allowing us to make a scene more privately.
Of course, our new born has now decided to sleep. He must get his rest you know; there’s a tantrum to throw as soon as the food is served. Don't want to be sleepy for that!
Next begins one of my favorite parts of dinner time: Keeping my oldest focused on the task at hand – sitting and eating.
You see, Sam is a special little boy who spends more time avoiding his chair than sitting on it (I truly believe that he does not actually know what a chair is for). The whole scenario is quite fascinating actually, as it looks like some sort of tribal dance.
My attempts at taming the wild beast proved futile. He decides he will spend the evening standing next to the chair.
We’ve now been at the table for all of 5 minutes, so of course it’s bathroom time. The first of many trips the evening will hold.
On the way there, Sam decides it’s time to share his feelings with the restaurant. I do enjoy when this happens:
Sam - “Daddy, my butt hole is itchy”.
Me – “Oh good….loud and descriptive as always.”
Good thing he only needed to play with the water as we might have been late for the show awaiting us back at the table, if he actually had to use the facilities.
I get back and take my seat. Sam kneels on the weird four legged foreign object. True to form, the little angel wakes up to unleash his fury as the drinks are being served.
This is the moment where I begin to feel the pulse in my neck making an appearance and start convincing myself I’m having a stroke (very similar to the sensation I get while driving).
Quietly and calmly, I say to my wife:
“Babe, as soon as we’re done eating, let’s just get these 2 home”
“I think I would like desert tonight. After desert we can go”
Obviously, my wife is immune to my mind darts.
Our “night out” comes to an end an hour or so later. We say good bye to our very good friends, and load up the truck.
The next 30 minutes are spent, of course, listening to the sweet sounds of our child screaming his little head off. Hello aneurism...Oh how I’ve missed you.
Once home, Heather and I quickly get our “divide and concur” pants on. As she feeds the baby, I take Sam upstairs to tuck him in to bed.
After finishing our prayers, Sam leans over, kisses me on the forehead and says:
“I had fun tonight daddy….I love you”
“So did I bud…I love you too” I reply.
I close his door and go downstairs to enjoy some much needed quiet time with my wife. I think to myself, how lucky I am to have my family. Calm or chaos, I am truly blessed.