To the waiter at La Mere Poule

I know it probably isn't the wisest, to take a five year old and a one year old to a restaurant.
But Etienne was working and I just wanted a break.
I wanted to be able to sit in a restaurant and have someone pour me a coffee...to sit back while my children coloured for a couple of minutes, and enjoy a meal that I didn't have to prepare.

The restaurant is one we go to fairly regularly; it serves only breakfast and lunch. It's very kid-friendly...the kids' meals come with little bowls of cut up fresh fruit, and they bring pictures and crayons for the kids to colour. And the food arrives quickly, a big priority when you're packing trolls.

Anyway, we blew into that restaurant like a noisy fart. All three of us poufy in our winter coats and boots, me dragging the squirmy Adele and carrying a purse big enough to haul freight.

They seated us near the window, which seemed like a lovely choice. We settled in...stripping off layers of winter gear and piling it all on the fourth chair. A highchair was provided, Adele tied down, and the colouring commenced.

All was peaceful. I sipped my coffee. The food arrived. We commenced shovelling.

Then the$?%#&! sun came out.

I'm sure you deduced from the previous post that Addie has a short fuse lately. Her teeth are making her crazy.

So when the sun peeped out from behind a cloud and poked a fat yellow thumb in Addie's eye...it pushed her over the top. She started whining and complaining. I tried to distract her with food...she tried one small bite of egg but her poor little mouth hurt too much. She spat it out with enough force to practically knock me off my seat, and started whining.

I picked her up and held her while she played with toast and smeared canteloupe all over herself and me, grunting, squirming, and complaining the entire time.
She wanted so badly to eat, but every bite hurt too much and would start another round of whining.

Of course the entire restaurant looked at me like I was the mother from hell.

I wanted to just pack up and leave, but the food had just arrived and Eva was behaving perfectly. She spends a lot of time compromising for Adele, and I didn't want to haul her out of her favourite restaurant just as her food arrived.

It was so hard not to say something to the faces glaring accusingly at me.

"YOU....the three women at the table behind me. I'm sure your children will be PERFECT and will never make a sound and YOUR LIVES WILL NOT CHANGE ONE BIT WHEN YOU HAVE CHILDREN. MUAHAHAHAA "

"YOU...perfectly-coiffed middle-aged woman and man at that table over there. I am NOT a rotten single mother with two devil spawn...I am on my own today and it is HARD WORK CORRALLING TWO SMALL CHILDREN. I AM TRYING TO GIVE MYSELF A SHORT BREAK SO SCREW OFF."

"YOU...beautiful snippy young couple holding hands over your plates. I know my child looks disgusting as she bubbles snot and smushes melon all over her face. Sorry for ruining your cheesy reverie. And if looking at my messy little family serves as birth control for you, ALL THE BETTER."

It's not like we were that loud - the tables are very close together so it was hard to ignore us.

And in our defence, we always work hard to keep them quiet, we never let them run around, and we always clean up after ourselves (including the floor). We want them to know how to behave in a restaurant.
And Eva did behave beautifully...she coloured, ordered her own meal (saying please and thank you) and ate quietly.

But I guess the people around us didn't know or notice any of that.

The most sympathetic people were the lovely lesbian couple in the corner who smiled at me every time Addie made a sound, and our sweet gay server.
He rushed to pick up every crayon Eva dropped, replaced the spoon Addie chucked, and whisked away our plates as soon as we finished. He also kept my coffee cup filled and told me my children were beautiful, even though I knew at that moment they weren't.

There's a reason I left him a five dollar tip and a grateful smile when I left.

And there's a reason why I regret judging other parents, before I became one.

Sometimes...circumstances create circumstances.

One more lesson my horribly wonderful children have taught me.