I feel like I'm being thrown into the holidays this year....I absolutely love Christmastime and everything that goes along with it...but this year, it just seems to be on us so quickly. I don't like the way everyone rushes with their decorations and such. I really want to focus on Thanksgiving and all that it means...but I'm starting to feel the Christmas cheer....even if we have had unusually warm temperatures this week.
I was feeling extra energetic yesterday (possibly thanks to a free Starbucks Expresso that I scored for free at CVS this week), so I texted hubby and said, "Let's go out for pizza tonight!" I suggested a pizza place where I could order a salad...and use a couple of coupons on our meal tab...and eat outside in a popular shopping/eating area...because once again I'll remind you, the weather was gorgeous. His response, "Sure, let's go...along with 200 of our closest friends." My hubby doesn't love crowds. Did you pick up on that? He was not thrilled with the idea of venturing to a busy spot, but a woman who has decided that she wants to eat out instead of cook dinner [for little people who may or may not throw the food back in her face] and clean up her kitchen [following the food throwing] absolutely can not be stopped.
So, we headed to the busy pizza place. I put our name on the list (because heaven forbid a restaurant offer call-ahead seating), and was told we would have a 10-15 minute wait time. Twenty minutes later, we were called to our table. Don't worry! We weren't a bit bored during that time, because we were lucky enough to witness one of the most unbelievable breastfeeding displays I have ever seen in my entire life. Now hear me out...I am a big fan of nature's method - If you've been around long, I'm sure you've read about me feeding my little papooses this way - but seriously....you should have seen what I saw last night. I am scarred for life...so is my husband...and my two children who should have never had to witness such a sight.
Moving on....we were directed to our table by an intense and energetic twenty-something who hadn't earned her job as hostess because she was warm and sweet and welcoming. She was basically the restaurant nazi guiding us to a table that was situated right.by.the.front.door. When leaving my name with her (20 minutes prior), I mentioned that we would need a high chair. She knew this information. I even watched her make note of it. So why in blue blazes did she seat us directly by the front door? I politely explained that we would need another table as this was most definitely not the best table for a high chair....and that's when it happened...she [a twenty-something in short shorts and a tight t-shirt] proceeded to tell me why I would indeed need to sit there and how I would "just have to wait even longer" to get any other kind of table. Oh my, this did not go over well with this somewhat frumpy, slightly lumpy, stretch-marked mama. We positioned the highchair in the best spot we could as I resolved that I would be meeting face-to-face with her manager later in the week.
The restaurant was loud...so many people, such loud music... (We should have stayed home.) We settled in to our table as our oldest began to loudly proclaim that he wanted a pizza with "PEPPAWONI!" and our youngest began to throw silverware off the table nearly turning over the drink glasses belonging to the poor souls seated directly behind him. I leaned over to my oldest and said, "If you can be a good boy while we're here, you can get some new underwear!" Who says something like this? What kind of parenting is this? It is a desperate woman in a desperate situation is what it is. Now in my defense, the store where I typically like to purchase his underwear is located directly across the street from the pizza place...and I did consider browsing said store following our dinner...but really?! New underwear if you're good? I don't know what I was thinking.
Thankfully, we were blessed with the sweetest waitress on the planet. Our orders were correct...Our drinks were continuously refilled...She brought pizza dough out for our littles to play with while they waited on their peppawoni pizzas...She accepted my coupons without giving me any lip....and I left her the biggest tip I have ever left any waitress...ever.
Have you ever eaten out with little ones? Sometimes, it goes well....and other times, it's a nightmare. I would put this experience somewhere in the middle. We survived...no thanks to the young, snippy hostess...
...and my Caleb held tightly to his new underwear all the way home.