The Joys of Parenthood...

If only I had photos...
We decided to go out to eat tonight; something we haven't done in a while.  Now I remember why.  Normally we get complimented on our childrens' public behavior and exceptional table manners.  There's no way that would have happened tonight.  Maybe it was the open invitation of flinging peanut shells haphazardly on the floor, or the fact that they were all a little over excited by Ethan and Haiden's exceptional crane skills.  (At Texas T-Bone they give the kids quarters for the crane machine.  Haiden lines up the claw and Ethan hits the button.  They grabbed three stuffed animals at once.  It's not the first time we've defeated this machine.)  Whatever the case, Clint and I were reminded of exactly why we're hermits and have no social life.  Fortunately for the other patrons, we were seated in a remote location.  I'm sure they knew..

With stuffed animals in hand, the older boys were loud and obnoxious.  They were sitting by dad though so, that's their bad.  Haha.  Hailey decided she wanted to order off the big girl menu and then ate hardly any of it.  I told her she better roll up her sleeves and prepare to do dishes to work off that meal.  Oh, and she also better prepare to have fried shrimp and sweet potato for breakfast.  And lunch.  And dinner.

The highlight of the evening came when my plate arrived.  My poor little filet looked like it had been run over by a semi and then sadly taped back together with a scraggly piece of bacon.  Now, if you know me, you'd know that didn't matter to me.  I had one plan for that slab of meat and it wasn't a photo shoot.  Well, the owner came over to the table, saw my roadkill and said it was unacceptable.  I had another beautiful, picture-perfect filet brought out to me almost immediately.  At no charge, of course.  Always great service there.

So, wrapping up the evening, this is where our precious angel Jett comes into the picture.  He'd been such a good boy all night, eating salad and bread and sharing my steak and potato with me.  When he decided he was finished he started dancing to the music heard overhead.  Still precious.

I learned he was ready to go when he sweetly leaned over the side of the high chair and started spitting.  These weren't the cute little bubbles that babies blow.  This was a full-on, wish-I-could-huck-a-loogy gloppy spit!  And several in succession!  I then realized that he needs to stop watching me in the morning when I'm brushing my teeth.  Then, the startled look he gave signaled to us that it was time to leave immediately.  His face reddened, eyes watered up, and the grunting ensued.  After he filled his pants and got back to dancing, I looked around only to find empty floor space where a diaper bag usually goes.  I love to leave the house in a hurry.  Now we're here with naughty kids and stinky pants and then Jett had to go and poop.  Just kidding.  The stinky pants were his.

I found myself shooting a scene from the movie Mr. Mom.  There I was in the bathroom with my baby strapped to the poopy table and me with nothing in hand.  Well, I got rid of the mess, having to wipe an 8-ply disaster with 1-ply paper and then I made a make-shift diaper out of 36 yards of paper towel.  At least if he had a blow out on the way home, there'd be some sort of absorbency besides his onesie, pants, and car seat.  MacGyver would be proud.

On the way home, as I forced him to hold my hand, I told Clint we needed to go out without the kids one night and I saw a little tear come to his eye.  But, this is my husband we're talking about.  The tear wasn't for excitement of having some alone time together.  It was from thinking about leaving the house again.  Oh well, I got a second steak out of the deal.