Recently I had to run a few errands with both children in tow.
Now, I’m sure every mother alive knows my pain; getting children in and out of the car downright sucks and it usually takes longer than the actual task itself.
A pain in every lovely mothers ass.
As a spontaneous reward to the little darlings for behaving so well on our ‘quest’ I asked if they would like to go for a special treat of hot chips and milkshakes at the ‘big’ hotel.
Delighted little nodding faces assured me they were in a good and somewhat focused mood that would allow for a pleasant experience for all involved.
So off we went armed with positive vibes, and very well dressed little children.
The kind of very well dressed little children that strangers see and approvingly nod and say “AWWW they are SOOO cute!” or “How adorable, look how they are holding hands!”
Hot tip: Dress to impress. Nicely dressed and well presented children are going to soften the
blow staff and patrons where ever you are. It’s instantly going to get you further. Trust me. Snotty little wild looking grubs are going to raise the hairs on the back of anyones neck.
Save that shit for at home and may the odds ever be in your favour.
So in we all go, hand in hand for major sweetness impact. I see their judgemental eyes, and we seemingly pass the first test.
Feeling around in the nappy bag I quickly realise something. Something BIG.
Through smiling teeth I’m secretly thinking Shit! I forgot the bloody iPad, how the fuck could I forget that? Damn it! Ok, we are going to have to do this very, very quickly.
There’s no backing out now, we are well inside the restaurant and trying to go back on my word just won’t sit well with the self appointed dictators. I’ve got to wing it and make it snappy.
I don’t know how parents took children out before technology…maybe they just didn’t.
Luckily the place was relatively empty which is always a bonus of eating ridiculously early so we found some nice cosy couches and placed our order hastily before the busy lunchtime quiet-loving-crowd crept upon us. The children began to happily play with the toys in the basket provided and I was able to sit for a moment of peace and enjoy my chai latte without any disruptions.
They were really well behaved and the chips came out fairly quickly. But so freaking hot that we needed a snap freezer to cool them down.
“CHIPPIES!” Shrieks of delight.
“IT’S HOT!” Shrieks of despair.
“MAMA! BLOW ON THEM RIGHT NOOOOOOOWWWWW!”
And so it begins.
I’m glad I got that chai in, my minute of calm and clarity had expired instantly.
No longer would the partially working toys with missing parts cut it. I was on my own with a sudden onset of extreme hunger like never before. Starved children. Frothing at the mouth like rabid dogs. Where the Wild Things are. “Those children” – they were now mine.
Their once sweet angelic faces had now glazed over and been replaced with frustrated angry red scowls, testosterone raging accompanied by the best girly high pitched shrill screams you have ever heard. I’m talking break-a-glass pitched, the girl can sure belt them out.
All eyes on us. Me. What’s she going to do? I can feel the bar staff’s comfort levels depleting already. Whatever cute first impression we had made was diminishing by the minute.
Think fast, snap chips in half and blow like hell until you nearly pass out from the dizziness. Press them onto the glass of cold drink, fan your arm around like a windmill -do something, do anything you can to get those fireballs to cool down. And the chips too.
a few minutes what seemed like hours the chips were at edible levels of warm and peace was restored once again.
Deciding not to over stay our welcome to avoid my dear children couch jumping like Tom Cruise on Oprah’s I packed up as much mess as possible and cleaned the table as best I could while firmly clutching two little sticky hands in my big clean one.
Just as we were about to graciously leave the little one swiped a toy from the basket and promptly nose dived it into the sauce dish.
My embarrassed eyes met with the young girl behind the counter. She looked horrified.
She looked like she was the one that had to clean it up.
Trying to hold back a giggle (and now 2 very overtired, loud and rambunctious children) I quickly hustled my wolf pack out of there in a flash, assuring myself it’s not the worst thing that could have happened.
Someone please tell the bar lady that!