Bon Appetite

Some days are great, some are shatty...which is the worst kind. Today was the latter. It started out well...donuts, coffee, cartoons, pj's. By 5:30, I was on a hot date with my kids at the one place you go when you're feeling run down, sorry for yourself, or in need of grandmotherly comfort...

photo credit

My date(s) challenged me to an epic battle of the wills right off the bat (with a ratio of 3:1, theirs seemed to be winning). I felt like Julie in Julie and Julia in the middle of her boning the duck meltdown. As she put it, "I cried like an emotionally disturbed child." I wasn't on my kitchen floor, though. I was in the middle of a toddler food fight in the local Cracker Barrel. MC didn't like that her grilled chicken looked like "olio," Ford spilt his entire cup of iced water in his lap, the baby was trying her best to throw everything on the floor and they all forgot their listening ears. Completely overwhelmed and miserable, I shoved two buttermilk biscuits, one after the other, in my mouth and wiped the tears and the ketchup off my face with a mac n' cheese covered napkin. Pathetic.

I hope your dinner was calm and that you didn't fall apart in front of ten 4-tops and several waitresses...and a manager named Fred. I hope that your kid didn't pelt innocent bystanders with a stack of large plastic checkers. I hope you didn't find any crayons in your glass of tea. I hope your kid didn't tell you they wanted you to eat poison and get sick and die. Supermoms...I hope you remember that your kids are full of hormones just like you and that they don't mean what they say and that they usually just want you to catch them with they run or hug them when they push you away...and they don't really want you to eat poison or die. Just know this: You're not alone. I'm here...trying to get myself together over a watery iced latte and a trusty keyboard who never ever talks back.