WRONG!!! SO. EFFING. WRONG.
Thanks for playing babe, next time, listen to the wife when she says “Beware.”
Let me explain. You see the shiny white round ball at night? We call that the moon. Once a month, usually about the same damn time Flo drops by, the white ball of fury is FULL. Which means that my sweet little squidy gnomes, turn into fire breathing, grimoire casting, horn bearing DEMONS.
Now Seth-en-stein, not so much. The Little Bitty…..O.M.G!!
Seriously the girl is on a rampage. No stopping her. A drawer in my kitchen was open every other second. Garlic press here, spoon there, spatula yonder…….you name it, she pulled it out. EVERY. EFFING. FIVE. SECONDS. Seriously, I contemplated putting a collar around her and a stake in the floor where the rope only had about two feet of play so she couldn’t get into anything. Tupperware, stainless steel bowls clanging.
And then. When I thought her possession had passed and I did not have to contemplate my conversion to Catholicism to invest in a priest to perform an exorcism she did it. She pushed me.
Not physically, I mean she weighs a whopping 22 pounds sopping wet. She climbed up onto the dining table. Unloaded everything on it. Began to head for THE laptop, MY laptop, to hurl it like a discus in a track an field competition. So I told her NO one last time. And she screamed like bloody hell and I lost it. I walked away. I hid in a place where I could call her all the foul names I have called people that make sailors blush. And then I was fine. Until the hubs began debating the dinner debacle.
I hate dinner. Unless I have prepared a menu that week I hate trying to throw together dinner especially when I have been busy working all day. (Cleaning, blogging, gossiping with my mother…ya know…working!) No really, I have been fighting with a customer, I lost $2400 because he was scared of the FBI form….long story on that, and then the demon spawn of hell awoke from her monthly slumber. So we decided on a “kids eat free” deal! WOOT.
Not so much. Basically the dinner Gods said, “Hey Herrings, thanks for playing!”
So we venture to Coco’s, which by the way has some fantastic desserts. And the whole thing is a joke from the get go. The 20 something doesn’t know her asshole from a whole in the wall hostess puts us in a CORNER booth with twins. Um….yo…..where do we put not one, yes count them, TWO high chairs. Alrighty, a new adventure….BOOSTER SEATS!! Negative. Seth-en-stein was great, he was easy peasy pumpkin pie as Big G would say. Not the Little Bitty, oh no. Let’s throw our Crocs across the table, eat crayons, and then SCREAM bloody hell again like someone was yanking her nails from the nail beds with a pair of pliers.
DH patiently pulls her from her stance, takes her outside. I order for the kids seeing as she is probably hungry, hence the extra dose of demonic presence, and I wanted there food there first so they weren’t so cranky and then DH and I could order. They come back…..we go for round two. Negative. Even more ornery, tears, blood boiling screams, kicking. LOTS. OF. KICKING. He takes her back outside just as the food arrives. The boys eat. DH is waiting for me in the car….thinking I am gonna just bail. Um no, feed kids, then bail. He comes back, we try round three and she shows sign of interest in the tempting and toasty chicken nuggets only to begin her dive onto said table where we say EFF IT! DONE!!
As she blood boiling screams, I try to gather all the gear since traveling with a singleton and multiples is seriously a day trip safari the shit we pack. I fumble. He’s impatient, barking begins, and my growls come back. I wanted to tell the Mo Fo…um had you listened at home when I told you going out to dinner was NOT a wise plan, we wouldn’t be snapping at one another. So I take the boys to the car….yeah….car is not unlocked. So I stomp towards the front door and tell DH of his brilliant plan to send me to said car when I DON’T HAVE KEYS! I get the boys and the demon in the car….he pays…..the waiter trys to comp….not sure why. My kid is the asshole. Not like you had turrets for that moment and was freaking like she was. So we leave a hefty tip…..as a bribe that we promise never to return.
On the ride home….incessant screams, cries, no comfort in sight. Not even the blankie. I sit in total silence wanting to be a childish brat and rant this to DH:
“Nah Nah asshat! See I told you!! Not a good idea to go to dinner. Getting out of the house was not good. I told you she was a demon today, she is out of hand, you think I am menstrual….nice…nice excuse. See I WAS RIGHT!!!”
But I sat there. Completely, totally, utterly, emotionally toasted from keeping my cool, holding in my bittersweet victory. I got home…..and BALLED.
I was starving, since I didn’t get to order and not hungry all at the same time from all the chaos and BS of dealing with my baby girl who just needed to go to bed I guess. We tossed her in jammies and she drifted peacefully to sleep. The boys went to bed just as easily.
And then I made myself the best gall dang breakfast burrito!!
Eggs, sausage, hickory smoked maple bacon, fresh diced potatoes and FRESH, oh yes, FRESH homemade tortillas sprinkled with cheese. I ate till I felt like the fattest cat around. Like I was the most depressed woman crying into her Haagen Daas….in my case…..my papas y frijoles. Watched some bad TV and then went to bed before 11pm. And that my friends is how parents eat free on a Kids Eat free dinner night.