I have a confession. I'm afraid of dining out. In a restaurant. With the kids.
It's a strange phobia and totally unlike me (who is very pro exposing-my-kids-to-everything-rad-and-interesting) but when it comes to dining out? I'd much rather it be a date night with my husband or out with my girlfriends -- no kids allowed.
Case in point, Sunday morning, when we were asked to join family for a restaurant brunch with the kids, we politely were like ARE YOU KIDDING? NO WAY! FUCK THAT! ARE YOU CRAZY? declined.
And it's not because our kids aren't well-behaved. More often than not, they're perfectly angelic-ish. And honestly? The three (yes, three) times we've taken them out to dinner with us in the seventeen months since Fable was born, they've been awesome. They ate their food and played under the table sat in their seats and Archer colored on Hal's arm and Fable ate my lipstick and it was actually kind of lovely.
Still.
Twice in seventeen months is all I'm up for, because here's the (quite embarrassing, really) thing: I care what people think.
At least, I care what people think in restaurants and coffee shops when I can feel their eyes burning holes in the back of my head. And then I get awkward and weird and spill things all over myself. And then it's not the kids I have to worry about but my own neurosis - because all of a sudden I'm apologizing to everyone I see -even when there's nothing to apologize for - just in case something happens that might offend, annoy or put them off, and pretty soon I'M the one who's spilling food all over someone's lap.
I wrote about my little eat-out-in-public-with-kids-conundrum a couple years back. And at the time, was very "fuck the man! I can bring my kid with me everywhere, yo!" I kind of still agree -- if only I was as strong in the flesh as I am on the computer.
Or not.
Frankly, I'd rather save the money, eat at home as a family every night and splurge once every month or two on a fanciful feast at a restaurant where I don't have to chase children through the hallways -- where I can sit still and drink wine and eat truffled things, cross my legs under the table, enjoy my food.
And one day? When the kids are old enough to do the same? They can come with us.
Until then? Party of two, hold the crayons.
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