I can’t be the only mom who thinks this

We have been together for over 8 years now.  In that time, we’ve been able to establish two pretty solid traditions as a family…we clean on Friday afternoons when we get home from school and we go out to dinner on Friday nights as much as we can.  We sometimes just get something to go, but it’s rare that we ever eat food that has been made in our kitchen.

So tonight we headed to Rock Bottom Brewery.  I had been looking forward to eating pretzels and drinking beer carb loading for tomorrow’s 15-miler all day today.  Literally, my mouth was watering when we walked in the door to find a 30 minute wait.  Boo.  But, we’re used to it, our kids are well behaved, and we love the beer, so hey, we’ll hang. 

Jesse took the girls outside to run around while I checked in on Facebook.  Next thing I know, Ryan’s saying, “Dad needs you!”  I go outside to find a baby SCREAMING holy hell and a daddy covered in puke.  NOT the kind of puke that comes from sickness.  The kind of puke that comes from the fit thrown by our ridiculously single-minded daughter who was told no when she tried to run into the street. 

You read that right.  My nearly 17-month-old child threw a fit so hard after being told no, she threw up.

Okay…well, it’s already been 30 minutes, I’m thinking.  Let’s clean up. We’ll get a table.  She’ll calm down now.  But no.  No table.  And she kept on.  For ten more minutes.  Couldn’t calm down.  So we peace the fuck out.  The people at the front say, “We’re sorry” as we leave, but they weren’t sorry at all.

(on a side note…why the FUCK were there no less than SEVEN empty tables in the restaurant? why the FUCK were people who had shown up after us being seated before us with the same size party? did I just get the kid-discrimination at Rock Bottom? we waited for 40 minutes, by the way…10 minutes longer than we were told.  had we been seated, NONE of this would have happened.)

And I was pissed at my kid.  My baby.  I was pissed at her.  Maybe that makes me shallow.  Maybe that makes me a terrible mother.  Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to her about how she was letting down all of us by acting like such a brat.  But I did it anyway.  We don’t get to go out much and she ruined for us.  Not because she was sick (that’s a different post, people), but because she was willfully throwing a huge fucking fit about being saved from oncoming traffic.  So fuck that “poor baby” noise.  Poor mommy.  Poor daddy.  Poor Ryan, who missed out on her special treat. 

And you know how this story ends, right?  Within five minutes of being in the car, she was her happy self.  She’s been cute as shit all night long. 

And I find myself thinking what I know every mom thinks at some point: Damn kid. 


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