Last Thursday, I took the morning off of work because Drew had a doctor's appointment. Since school has started back up, I haven't seen as much of him as I would like and I've been kind of feeling guilty about this. So, to make up for my own guilt, I decided that I would take him to Mc Donald's for breakfast before we had to be at the doctor's.
Like any normal disaster, things started out status quo. Before we got out of the car, he got the standard lecture about listening to what I said and if he didn't stay right next to me, we'd leave without eating. He nodded, said "yes ma'am", grabbed my hand and we were off. Drew politely asked the woman behind the register for a kid's pancake meal, I got my sausage biscuit, and we sat down.
And then he opened his toy. It was the same Joker helicopter that we got last week. That didn't go over well. I don't know what it is but getting the same Happy Meal toy twice in a row causes some kids to go into this fit of rage. My kid is one of those kids. All of the sudden, my sweetness and light son turned into the spawn of satan, horns and all. It started with a whine that turned into an "I want my daddy" plea (like Mark could have done anything about it) and then that turned into an all out cry complete with kicking--but no tears mind you.
Like most Golden Arches, the one by us is senior citizen city during the morning hours. So, of course, there were tables upon tables of the geriatric set who were watching us. When that happens, mom's immediately go on the defensive. In hindsight, I should have picked up the food, tossed it in the trash, put Drew under my arm football style, and marched out of the restaurant. But I didn't. My mistake. Instead, I told him that if he didn't stop crying, we were leaving which didn't cause much of a reaction until I started packing up the food, and then he quieted down. Crisis diverted. Yeah right. My life could be so easy.
With Drew calmed down, I was finally free to get straws and napkins. I set off to do that and he followed me because most of the time this is his job. Frankly, I'd rather have him help than scream anyway so I thanked him for helping, handed him our stuff and we set off back to the booth.
Once we were back, Drew, climbed up onto the plastic seat and stood on it. I asked him politely to sit down and scoot over and I think he tried to do both maneuvers at once because as he sat, he slipped off of the chair, fell below the table, and hit his head on the metal bar underneath. His head made a deafening CLONG noise that echoed throughout the restaurant much like an empty bell. Everyone heard it. How do I know this? Because the whole restaurant stopped talking at that exact moment so that they could turn to look at the mom/son freak circus. As soon as the resonance of his head ended, deafening scream took over and the silence from everyone else continued.
Quickly, I scooped him up into my arms and cradled him close to me, trying to soothe away the tears. Didn't work. He just kept on crying and crying while all of the elderly ladies continued to look at me with their mouths open. I could be wrong but I think they were judging me. Hell, I KNOW they were judging me. That's what old ladies do. I also think that if any of them had cell phones, they had a finger on speed dial waiting to call DHHR, and also waiting to see if I was going to shoot up with heroine right there in the booth or give Drew a pair of scissors to run around the store with. I am not kidding.
Having had enough of the stare-a-thon, I scooped up Drew and took him into the bathroom where I looked at his head and gave him kisses and cuddles. When he was calmed down, I went to the handicapped stall and called Mark, looking for some encouragement.
"Drew just fell and hit his head." I was barely holding back the tears.
"Is he okay?" I could hear Mark stop his work to listen.
Now the flood happens. "Yes but now all of the old ladies are staring at us and they're judging me!"
I'm pretty sure Mark laughed here and told me to get a grip, which I did. Drew and I both dried our eyes. We went back to the booth and enjoyed our now cold breakfast without another catastrophe. And if the old ladies were looking at me, I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of looking back. The fact of the matter is that they were probably once mothers of a young child too and now they look back with rose colored glasses on the experience when, in reality, they were most likely just like me--trying to do the best I can.
Before Drew, there were many days when Mark and I would be in a restaurant with friends and we'd hear a child crying or screaming. ALWAYS, ALWAYS without exception, someone at the table would say something about how annoying that was and how only well behaved children should be allowed to eat out. Well, boy have my own words come back to bite me in the butt. Most of the time I have a well behaved child but sometimes he isn't. Sometimes, it's because he's grumpy, sometimes it's because he's hurt or sick, and on rare occasions (like at Mc Donald's) it's both.
And while I'm not going to allow Drew to scream or act up for too long, people have to be understanding if it occurs for a moment. Out of all of the things I've done in my life, (undergraduate and Master's degree included) raising my son is the hardest endeavour that I've ever taken on. He's hard headed like me and he can dig his heels in the sand just as hard as I can.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that people are so quick to judge when they should back off for just a second. I am no longer the first person pointing a finger at the mom with the screaming child in Food Lion. That's not to say that I've never done it at all because I have when the situation presents itself as such.
Parenting is hard work. There are successes and failures and so many times, the failures are in the open for the whole world to see. For me, that's the hardest part. I don't like to fail--not for me and especially not for Drew.
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