Birthday Cheer

So this year my birthday wasn't "all that". Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Just processing. And trying to find the humor in a birthday that threatens to go down in history as the one where I rush to the doctor and say "Please ...just tie my tubes. And do it quickly before more child-drama happens!"

Take our family lunch-out for instance. We went to Cracker Barrel. Nice place to eat. They give you free dessert when it's your birthday. The kids can be entertained while looking at the toys they have displayed inside. And it's near the place where we were headed after lunch. So... perfect. Let's go!!

We drove over and promptly waited. And waited. And waited. For almost an hour with three very hungry and very tired (due to sleepover at g'parents) little girls. Why didn't we leave, you ask? Well simply put, we were feeling rather daring. It was my birthday. And by golly, I'm going to go out to eat and have fun. You hear me?! FUN, I say. So sit down, shut up, and act like we're enjoying ourselves. *wry grin*

But yes, we DID choose to endure a 45 minute wait. We figured, why not? We asked for a table for five. So we'd probably end up sitting in a lovely little corner by the window...plenty of space to just relax and let the kids "kick back". If we leave...by the time we get to another restaurant, we'd have been already seated here. Right? I mean, it sounds like good ol', sound logical thinking to me.

Unfortunately, the receptionist was lacking in the fundamental skill of reading numbers.

We walk up to the desk. She says "You're the table of five?" Yep. That's us. See...here we all are. I point to all of my children. All FIVE of us. And then she hands us off to this petite blond whose eyes are darting back and forth around the room rapidly. Maybe she didn't like large crowds? Maybe she was re-thinking her decision to work at a restaurant on a Sunday in the Bible Belt. Who knows what she was thinking. But we had no choice. We had to follow her. And so we did.

She sort of wandered around aimlessly for a second. Stopped. Looked. Her lips were moving but no sounds were coming out. Should I say something to help calm her? And then without going to the back section of the restaurant to see about the availability of large tables, she promptly led us to a FOUR top. Smack in the middle of other crowded tables. Suddenly, all desire to comfort her was *poof* gone.

Lovely. Yes, hi there, table neighbor. No, we didn't CHOOSE to be this close to you. I promise. It was her fault. The girl with the nervous tic. We did tell her FIVE, I swear!!!

I want to shout these things at the top of my frazzled lungs. But I was hyperventilating. Apparently you can't do both at the same time. So all I could do was give my husband "the eye." You know what I'm talking about? That thing we do when there's nothing else politically correct for a responsible adult to do. So I glare. Quickly. So no one else can see. God forbid other people- besides the one we love the very most- be subject to such a nasty face. Oh, I shudder at the thought.

Now allow me to clarify something. Raegan has been doing some heavy-duty teething these past few days. My usually content, laid-back baby has been replaced by a child who does not want to sleep. And who apparently doesn't appreciate it when others attempt to. You can see the teeth through the surface...right underneath. Trust me, I know. I've had the last few nights to inspect the slow progress, as there is nothing else to do at 3 in the morning. This is key information, as you may need to understand why the parental figures are so frazzled and why the 6 month old is anything but content.

So half-way through the meal, Raegan, in keeping up with her I'm-teething-and-you-will-feel-my-pain mantra, was making her presence known to every restaurant patron within 70 feet. In a matter of seconds, I'm sure my blood pressure rose to lethal levels.

But apparently we crossed over from "look at those dumb parents" to "Aww, poor guys...they're trying so hard" at some point during our dining experience. Because a very kind-hearted woman stood up and said "May I hold her so you can eat?"

I wanted to throw my arms around her. Hug her. Award her with a metal of honor. Something. Just for her act of kindness. Seriously, it gave me the attitude boost that I needed to finish the meal in dignity. Unfortunately our dear daughter also suffers from Stranger Anxiety. Which brings her crying to a whole new level of shrill. *Sorry, she doesn't appreciate strangers, but thank you sooooo much for your offer. Can you come back later when I want to take a nap?*

And then there was Selah, who was apparently not wanting to be left out of the Let's-Gang-Up-on-Mom-and-Dad scenario. She cried at the drop of a hat. The broken-hearted, inconsolable kind of tears. Everything was a tragedy. A loud one. But that's not all...

Nooooo...*ding ding ding* you are the lucky winner! You've been chosen to also contend with what's behind Door #2! Tell them what they've won, Johnny!

You get a child who seems to be going through a phase where she thinks obedience in optional!! *applause and cheers* Ahh, yes. You are the lucky winner of a birthday lunch out with a 3 year old who has a sudden outset of strong-willed personality AND hunger and sleep deprivation factors thrown in just for fun! Woo-Hoo. Oh, what a prize it was!!

Um yeah. It. was. not. pretty.

Thankfully though, they did bring me free dessert. And just like that, Selah was happy to comply with anything I said. Ah, the magic of chocolate when contending for a woman's heart.

So then after leaving the restaurant, we did what any parent with a death-wish would do at this stage of the game. We went shopping. I know, I know. But it WAS to a rather benign place, in my opinion. The Good Will.

Now. I have to interrupt the story and explain something lest you think that my husband is the biggest cheapskate of all time. Two years ago, he bought me a treadmill of professional gym quality. With the understanding that it would be my birthday and Christmas presents for the next couple of years. Every year and at every occasion, he has tried to re-nig on that "binding contract" by buying me something else. But this time, I told him...You are not allowed to spend money on me. Alright?!!

So I ASKED to go to the Good Will, being that I have now lost enough baby weight to effectively cause my "bigger" clothes to fall off. And my smaller ones to be able to zip up, though only barely. So I am presented with the choice of being mistaken for a plumber (you figure that metaphor out)...or to go in public wearing pants where the song "Baby Got back" will involuntarily spring to mind.

Neither of those options really suits me. So...off we head to Good Will to buy some more "in-between, but not quite there yet" clothes. All the while, hanging out with these children who have decided that *birthday cheer* is an overrated idea.

If any of you have graced the doors of The Good Will, you know the large open room. The cement encasing that gives shoppers the ability to hear normal conversation from every corner of the store. So figure in the fact that two of my children were crying... Ahh yes. That was MY family you heard, oh lovely shoppers to the local Goodwill. I know you were all thinking the same thing: "For the love of God, take those kids home to get a nap and leave the rest of us to shop in peace!"

Yes, yes, I know. But have I mentioned that I like to live on the wild side? Yeah well. I do. but actually, that day I was physically unable to get away from the "wild side". By law, I can't leave my kids out on the curb. ;)

So now...24 hours later...I guess I can say it wasn't THAT bad. I just wasn't in the mood for teething babies, incompetent receptionists, or frazzled toddlers. Because thirty-one years ago, my mom worked very hard to bring me into the world. Thank you very much. And I deserve to celebrate her hard work and the fruits of...well, ME. *wink*

So if you know me personally and see me running around with a "It's my birthday" pin...just know that it's because Jet and I agreed this birthday was a fake. a default. a trial run. It didn't really count. And therefore didn't really happen. :)