Ask any parent with little children what their last meal was and you will get that deer in the headlight look. You might get an answer but more than likely not.
Why? Because parents, especially moms, don’t eat hot meals...period.
I haven’t had a hot meal in nine years so you can imagine the state of affairs when I am actually able to digest my food.
When I am able to eat my meals without my children, I do what every other parent of young children does. I began devouring the plate of food in front of me.
There is no cutting of meat. No seasoning is added. I don’t even think there is much chewing.
I am so used to speeding through my meal that I don’t know how to reverse into normal eating mode in public situations.
I either devour my entire meal or I try to cut the meat of the person beside me into bite sized pieces. Adults don’t always appreciate that particular service.
Believe me, I love and adore my three beautiful children. But they have turned me into this person.
When my husband Jason and I go on dates, we don’t know how to act with a plate full of hot food in front of us. I am tempted to scoot his food around on his plate so that nothing touches. I try to flag the waiter down to ask for an extra red crayon. And I remind Jason to use “his inside voice.”
Before I had children of my own, I always noticed the tables of people with children at restaurants.
I never understood why so much food ended up on the floor. Why did it matter if little Johnny had more crayons than little Susie? Was a tantrum necessary when it came time to eat vegetables? Why do parents bring so many toys with them to a restaurant? When did burping aloud become acceptable?
And I vowed that my children would never act like that.
I am eating those words (about the only thing I’m eating) today as Jason and I continue our journey through parenthood.
Now that I am a parent, those tantrum-filled tables don’t bother me. I never even look up.
You could feed another family with the crumbs left behind from my bunch.
If you remind my kids that loud burping is rude, James will let one rip but remind you that he said “excuse me.”
Elsie will insist on a hamburger only to refuse it when it arrives at the table. She will, however, sample some of your plate.
And Jase makes no bones about “restroom breaks.” And he lets every table surrounding us that he is in fact having one. He may even tell everyone how it went on his way back to the table. He loves to announce to total strangers that he just “tee-teed” with a big grin on his face like he’s expecting to be congratulated.
But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There will come a day when Jason and I will gaze at each other from across the table with no kid menus, no crumbs, no crayons, no burps, no tantrums. We will have no idea of what to do with ourselves.
I will enjoy those crazy public dinners while I can.
So if you see Jason and I alone on a date in town at a restaurant, just ignore the fact that we took out a steak in ten seconds. If I ask you if you need your meat cut into bite size pieces, just ignore me. If you see a game of Hangman on the napkin, throw it away.
We’re parents. And we don’t get out much.
