Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Out to dinner

Going out to dinner with kids is like getting a massage from ants. Ostensibly relaxing, but in reality, really irritating and kind of dirty.

Last night I decided to join my family for dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. We were a little late getting there. Because it takes an eternity to pick up three kids from three different locations of childcare.

Here's how it went.

We arrive. Yay!

Order fast! Waiter is here!

Lilly wants out of her car seat. I go to pick her up. I realize she has had massive poop blowout. When did that happen?! SHIT! This was an unplanned meal, so I don't have a diaper bag with me! Usually, when I'm picking her up at the babysitter's and taking her home, I don't need a diaper bag. But now I do. Okay. Think. I know! The CAR! It is piled HIGH with stuff! Surely I'll be able to McGyver another outfit and a diaper. Sure enough, there is an outfit (boys, slightly too big) and even an old diaper! It is several sizes too big but much better than the t-shirt/tissue/blanket diaper I was concocting in my head.

Okay, take Lilly to the bathroom. Awesome! They have a changing table (diaper changes on the floor of a Mexican restaurant's bathroom = yuck). Strap her down. Wet some paper towels while whipping my head around to verify that she's not trying to escape the table. Straps shmaps. Lilly will see your straps and raise you a head dive. Okay, good, back to holding her down. Lilly doesn't like this. It sounds like "AHHHH NOT LIKE NOT LIKE NOT LIKE." Peel off onesie. Okay, there's some poop on her face, but I gotta stay focused. Wiping, wiping, wiping, new diaper, new outfit. Fold old poopy clothes in on themselves, throw away old diaper and paper towel wipes and we are clean!!

Okay, back to the table. Sit down. Take a bite.

"I meeda go potty."

Right. Okay. Owen needs to go potty. That's cool. I totally know where it is. Come on, let's go.

"It is here? We go potty in here?"

"Yup, come on, let's go. Move it along, nothing to see here. Let's just do our business."

"We will go in here? You will come wif me?"

"Sure will, let's go."

"OH! Looka dat!"

"That's the changing table. Do you remember when you had to go on those because you wore a diaper? Now you can use the potty! So use the potty."

"Okay. I'm puuuuuuulling down my pants!"


"Okay, I will sit here and use the potty."

. . . . .

"Uh-oh. I fink sumfin is going wrong."

"What's up?"

"I'm trying to poop but it won't come out!"

"Well, keep trying. It's not like our food it getting cold. And I for one am certainly not hungry."

"OH! Wook at dat! Oh no! The toiwet paper is onna fwoor!"

"Oh, my. How ever could the toilet paper have gotten on the floor? One could never foresee that happening when one was whapping it over and over."

"I better get it."

"Alright, Owen, I'm going to go back out to the table, you can come out when you're done."

"Okay! WEAVE, MOM."
I keep forgetting that my younger son will call my bluffs.

Right. I leave the bathroom. Run into my sister, who is waiting outside the men's bathroom for her son. Good to know I have years of bathroom hanging out ahead of me. She offers to wait for Owen. Sweet!

Take two bites. Mexican food not so appealing anymore, but you get what you get and you don't get grossed out by a bunch of poop in the bathroom of a Mexican bathroom.

"Mom? I need to go potty."

You know that's Sam. Because every thing he says to me begins with him saying my name like it is a question. Mom? Is that you? Are you really my mother? Are you still my mother? Are you sure?

Right. Back to the bathroom. Maybe I'll have the chance to lick it this time.

"Mom? Is this the bathroom? Are you coming in? Oh, look there is a changing table on the wall! Oh my gosh, the toilet paper is on the floor!"

Oh my god.

Just use the freaking bathroom.

"Sam, seriously, just use the potty and let's get out of here."

"Mom? I have to poop."

See, apparently, dinner got scheduled during 6:00 family pooping time.

I think I spent more time in the bathroom than at the table.

Which was fun.

And then Lilly got tired and cried a lot and wanted to go home.

I'm sure there were other people there. And I'm sure they talked about things. You know, current event, politics, old friends.

Not me. Just tacos and poop.

No comments:

Post a Comment