As I’ve mentioned before, I am
the mother of children who are currently four (my son) and two (my daughter). Maybe my descriptive title including the word
“battle” is not true in your life because either your children are older now,
or perhaps your children were/are perfectly behaved in restaurants. If so, good for you, but chances are you have
encountered something similar as a parent.
Therefore, you can reminisce, relate, or just have a good laugh with
this post. It’s a long one, but the
ending is great, I promise.
Remember the days when your
children were under a year old? They
would either sit happily in their car seat asleep or snack along with the
family while you and hubby enjoyed a hot
meal (remember the days when you got to eat your meal while still warm?). Even once they were able to be in a highchair
(and up to a year old or a little older) it seemed like mine were content to
let us get through a meal peacefully.
Although once-in-a-while, I did have to find a place to nurse them while
in public, which is a topic for another day.
Then at 2-years-old, they get opinions, start
using the word “no” all too often, and are not content to be sitting anywhere
for too long. That is also when mine
entered the land of meltdowns and tantrums.
Here is the scene:
My husband had been out of town
for two days. I am a Minister of Music,
and my schedule was full at home and church, and it was a rough two days for him
to have to be gone, but it couldn’t be helped, he had a family emergency.
Staff meeting at church was that Wednesday
morning, had a piano lesson that afternoon, church that night, and the kids had
to be there every step, except during Praise Team rehearsal (thankfully we have
someone at church who watches them during that time). Arrived home at almost 9 PM that night, and
had to be at church by 9 AM Thursday morning to meet a piano tech so the piano
in our sanctuary could be tuned. Knew I
had a rehearsal at 6 PM that night, so my plan after the piano was finished,
was to pick up some groceries (since we were supposed to get another 2-4” of
snow the next day) so that the kids and I could come home after rehearsal and
be done. Thursday morning we finished at
church around lunchtime and the kids were hungry. I knew if we came home to eat, my motivation
to get them bundled back up and out the door again would be zero, so I decided
to grab something quick—except nothing out of the drive-thru sounded good.
Somehow, the idea of sitting down and eating a meal with my children
sounded like a brilliant idea at that point, and breakfast food seemed like
oxygen, so I pulled into Waffle House.
My perception of what will happen when I take my children into a
restaurant is never close to what actually happens. I have this ideal that we’ll have a peaceful
meal where we’ll chat and enjoy each other’s company. My children will eat all of their food
without me having to ask them one-thousand times to do so, and we’ll all get a
break from being stuck in the house during this awful winter. It will be sunshine and rainbows—at least in
my head that is what I envision, and it is what I want—instead this is the
reality….
I give little man the speech
before we go in, “don’t do this—don’t do
that—we’re going to act this way—don’t act that way—“you know the
drill. A vehicle even sees this Momma
trying to cross the parking lot with two little ones in tow and motions for me
to go ahead, so I’m feeling okay about humanity as I walk in. Because most of the time, us Momma’s are
invisible to the public, with our arms full of babies and baby gear so carefully
balanced that one shift can make it all go awry, and yet most of the time no
one seems to know how to open a door for us or lend a helping hand. Yes, we are invisible until our children
start making a ruckus, that is. Then it
is as if that dream you’ve had all your life that you’re at school and forgot
to get dressed that morning has actually
happened. It is all eyes on you, and
you’re made to feel like you’re the bad parent for not having your child “under
control.”
As we walk in, I get a room full of looks
that seem to say, “what are you doing here with them.” I kid you not. No “good morning,” or “hi” nothing—just
stares. I pick the last booth, closest to
the restrooms. It was God looking out
for me, because I normally would not have sat there, but we’ll revisit this
choice.
I get little man in the booth,
grab a highchair nearby and unbundle their 500-layers. We’re all seated—there are no menus so I
grabbed some off a table. This was their
first trip to Waffle House so I explained where we were and that they have
breakfast food. The one funny thing
during our time was this:
Little man says, “I want a pancake.”
Me: They don’t have pancakes.
Little man:
(blank stare, like I have lobsters crawling out of my ears) ….What?
Me: They don’t have pancakes.
Little man: Yes they do.
Me: No, they don’t. This is Waffle House—they have waffles.
Little man: I’m pretty sure they have pancakes.
Me: They don’t do pancakes.
Little man: Why?
Me: Because it’s Waffle House.
As that last sentence is leaving my lips, the
server comes up and asks what we want and little man tells her he wants a
pancake. She too explains we were in
Waffle House. I finally get him sold on
a waffle and bacon. At this point, we
are okay. Little man is in the side of
the booth opposite me, the princess is in the highchair, and we’re playing “I
Spy.” For a brief moment, it was exactly
what I wanted. Had a few moments where
he was getting a little too excited and too loud, but we’re okay…until the
princess tilted her cup of milk and soaked her lap. Server comes back after a long wait to bring
our order, and drops my plate of bacon.
Big crash, on the floor, plate in a million pieces…and my son stands up
and says,
“Well, that’s not good.”
That’s a moment where you want to crawl under
the table, but he was truly being sincere and empathic so you just have to
brush it off. After she cleaned up the plate,
she gets back to bringing our food.
Little man wanted butter on his waffle, the princess did not…she wanted
syrup…little man did not. We’re about
five minutes into eating, and little man says the dreaded phrase,
“I have to go potty.”
So…what do you do, Momma’s? I would sincerely love to know because such a
simple task seemed like a major thing to navigate by myself. Perhaps this is another reason Momma’s don’t
take children this age out to eat very often...at least not alone. Do I take my daughter out of the highchair
and all of us go, leaving behind our coats and bag, which contains our money? Because we all know once you take a
2-year-old out of the highchair, you
have a 50/50 chance of them going back in without a meltdown (or is this just
my children?). Is there someone in here
goodhearted enough to watch my stuff
for me while I lug my children to the restroom?
If all of us go to the restroom, will they think we’ve left and clear
our table? At 4 ½ years old, is he old
enough to go alone? Do I convince him to
wait? I had all of these thoughts rush
through my mind. Remember earlier when I
told you I believe God was looking out for me in my table choice? This is why.
The restroom was no more than ten feet from
our table and was a single toilet instead of stalls (another good thing), so I
let him go in and I stood watch at the door and watched the princess at the
table while he did his business. We got
through that fairly well, but what if I had been on the complete opposite side
of the restaurant?
We continued eating which involved the
princess spilling more milk in her lap.
We were almost done when little man says,
“I have to go potty again,” which I knew,
meant he had to do a #2. We repeated the
same process, except one of the female workers kept coming out and
checking. She apparently needed the
restroom as well. She came out five
times…five…in a time span of no more than five minutes, and we know that
nothing makes you feel more relaxed than someone’s impatience, so this upped my
stress level another notch. Again, an
aggravation of mine with humanity that forgets you’re dealing with a
child. To hurry the process along I
grabbed the princess and ran into the bathroom quickly to assist.
Back at the table, she was finished eating,
but he was still snacking on his waffle.
I had put all the remaining waffles on the same plate. I was beginning to get the princess bundled
back up because we know how long that takes, but I was letting him finish his
food. The server comes over and starts
taking stuff away. Next time I look
over, she had taken the waffle he was eating.
He looks at me like he has been wounded and I try to explain that she
must not have known he was still eating, which he accepted—bypassed a possible
meltdown there. Inside, I was resisting
the urge to ask why in the world she started clearing our table before we
left. It’s not as if there were people
waiting for our spot, but we chugged on and I continued the fight of getting
them dressed again.
He wanted to look out the window that was
beside our table while I was dressing her, so I tell him he can, and to stay
put. I’m dressing her when I hear a
gruff old man saying something—didn’t make out what (probably a good thing I
didn’t) and I look over to see he is trying to leave, and my son is standing in
front of the door. Finally get him dressed
too and we all walk over to the counter, where the girl who is supposed to be
taking people’s money is talking on the phone to what I assume to be her
manager, because she is looking over an application and answering questions. It’s a good three minutes (an eternity with
bored children) before she finally tells her manager that there is a customer
with money in front of her. During that time,
little man went from sitting in a row of chairs by the window, to climbing the
chair/stools at the counter. The
princess wanted my phone to “color” and I said no, so that was apparently reason
for her to throw herself out on the filthy floor for a total meltdown. Most of us Momma’s would agree the WORST
thing to do in that situation is to give attention to it, but some people you encounter
in public don’t get that. To them I look
like the Mother who doesn’t care her child is on the dirty floor (although I’m
writhing inside), instead of the Momma who is actually diffusing the
situation…so insert more stares and unwanted comments from strangers here.
I walk out of there, feeling like I’ve just
been through the ringer, knowing I was done for the moment—no picking up
groceries after that debacle; promising that I will never put myself through
that again. Feeling again that it is
just not worth it—not worth the stress and embarrassment. It’s not worth the stares and smart aleck
comments from strangers and being made to feel that my children and I aren’t
welcome in public places. Although, is
that the way I should feel? People seem
to be on both sides of the fence.
I come out and call my husband to tell him
what happened, and the first thing he reminds me is that every time I go out to
eat with the kids, I tell myself it’s the last time, and yet I keep putting
myself through it. Therefore, I will
share with you what I shared with him…. Some days, will the experience of it
all be too much for me? Yes. Probably most days instead of “some” days; however
I feel that the best way for my children to learn how to act in public, is to be in public once-in-a-while. Part of the excitement and buzz of going out
to eat for them, which coininsidently turns into their inability to listen in
public occasionally is in part, because they rarely get to do it. Therefore, when we do they are super excited about it.
Although as stressful as it was for me in the
moment, I can sit back now as I type this and reflect on it with a laugh. As crazy and overwhelming as it felt then, it
still provided me with a sliver of what I wanted. It gave me time out of the house…with my
kids…and a meal that I did not have to cook... and for a stay-at-home-mom who
cooks just about every one (the hubby cooks once-in-a-while) of the twenty-one
meals a week my family eats, that’s a big deal.
Learn from my mistakes and take some of my wisdom with you though:
1. If you’re going to
venture out with your children you need to have thick skin, truly. You’re going to get looks, stares, unwanted
comments, etc., even when your kids are being ideal, and you need to be
prepared for that so you can handle it with grace and/or just basically tune it
out. I do feel like humanity fails a lot
in this regard too though—with their response to parents but perhaps that rant
is for another day.
2. If you are going out
alone with your kids in a restaurant, always go to the potty with your young
children before you’re seated—being seated
close to the restrooms worked out well for me in this case too, so that might
be something to consider for the future.
3. Another great tip for
you, especially when you’re alone with two or more kids—carry a diaper bag that
can go across your chest like a messenger bag so you’re hands free and not
balancing one on your shoulder. Believe
me that will come in handy. Also, this
may be a no-brainer, but take advantage of the pockets that are in most diaper bags
for your money, cards, etc., so you don’t have to carry a purse too. Personally, I just throw my change purse in
there so I can quickly move it from the diaper bag to the computer bag I use
for church but if you’re a person who primarily uses one bag that could be good
for you. One less thing to carry is
always smart.
4. Have something small
in your bag that can occupy your children while you wait and wait some more for
food. I take small, palm-sized books and
wooden puzzles (that are about 5-6” wide/tall), small paper pads and a few
crayons. I forgot all of this that day
and we were left with whatever I could find on the table, which didn’t amuse
them long.
5. I always have snacks
in our bag for the kids—raisins, craisins, dry cereal, etc…something they can
have a little of and not get full before their meal comes. I bring this out as a last resort since I’m
paying for food I want them to eat instead of filling up on stuff they could
have eaten at home, but sometimes a small snack is what’s needed to thwart
meltdown mode.
I would love to hear anything you do that
helps you survive eating-out as well.
I know that I haven’t given you a definite
answer on whether or not you should go out to eat with your children, and don’t
feel like I can. Every child is
different, just as every parent is different, and only you know whether it
works for your family. I hope that I’ve
given you some useful tips.
Speaking from my experience though…even in
the moments that stress me to the max, I try to remember that it will not
always be like this. Someday soon, my
children will not be so small. Someday soon,
Mommy and Daddy may not be their favorite people in the world. Right now, they adore spending time with
us—it is the main thing they crave—our undivided attention. However, someday soon, it may no longer be
“cool” to hang with their parents. Going
out to eat with their mom or dad (or both of us), may no longer be the
highlight of their day, one day. When I
think on these things, it convicts me that I get so overwhelmed and upset in
these moments. It is a reminder to soak
up these years because all too
soon…they are gone. My son is already
approaching official school age, which blows my mind. Where did the last five years go? Where is the tiny boy that was here just a
moment ago? Didn’t I just give birth? Where is his round, cherub-like face? A young boy that is growing up too quickly
for this Momma has replaced it instead.
I can say the same things about his sister. All too quickly, she is looking like a young
lady instead of a toddler…and if I allow myself to focus on the wrong things, I could miss the most
precious moments of their lives. If I
allowed myself, I could easily let the thoughts, ‘I can’t wait until they’re
older’ or ‘I can’t wait until we’re past this stage…’ creep in. When in fact, I think I will spend the
majority of the rest of their years wishing they were the size they are now. At the very least, I know I will greatly miss
the time we are in right now. We’re in the land of meltdowns and tantrums
and having difficulty listening at times, but we’re also in the land of long
snuggles…and random hugs and kisses, and the absolute best—them running up
every so often throughout the day to tell me ‘I love you!’
Am I giving them the best of me? This is a question I try to ask myself often,
and probably need to ask myself more often.
Whether we are at home, or have left our cave to join the real world for
a bit, are they getting the best of me?
Or are they getting stressed-out-mom who is fretting about the little
things? I think my children need to
learn appropriate behavior while in public, but is it a big deal in the grand
scheme of life if some rude people stare at us or make comments? No. Should
I fuss (literally) over a little spilled milk in my daughter’s lap? No.
Here is the challenge for me though—to remember as these things are
happening in rapid succession that they are
insignificant, and that our somewhat chaotic dinning endeavors are still sweet
memories with my children that I will cherish.
Because again—don’t miss this—it will not always be like this, and that
is altogether a good thing, and bad thing.
It is my hope that you were able to chuckle
along with me. That you were reminded of
your journey as a mother, or that if you’re in this stage with me, that you
found encouragement that you’re not alone.
These days and battles in restaurants or elsewhere will happen, and it’s
okay. In fact, it’s wonderful (though it
may not always feel that way). It
stretches me and shows me how imperfect I am, as well as the areas I need the
Lord to work on me.
Motherhood is going to be messy some times,
but what a glorious and beautiful mess it is.
Some days, you might have to do battle, and some will just glide by with
ease. Enjoy every magnificent step,
Momma. Blessings!
Here is a precious moment for you...my babies…watching patiently as the
cookies bake:
