There I was. In a restaurant. Almost 8 months pregnant with 3 kids in tow.
It started out great. We ordered cheese dip and guacamole. Drew indulged in a margarita (jealous). The toddler was enjoying the cheese dip. All was well.
And then the communication issues set in. The little one obviously wanted something on the table. She wanted SOMETHING, but I just couldn’t figure out what it was. She was headed for a full-blown meltdown, and I was right there with her.
That’s when I turned into THAT woman. I barked out orders to the waitress, grabbed the tiny one, and frantically headed outside. I was not about to let those other nice, quiet patrons be disturbed one minute longer. Not on my watch.
When the tiny quesadilla was ready, we went back in and, like magic, all was well again. She sat there quietly, enjoying her cheesy dinner. It was a miracle, I tell ya.
When we got up to leave, I looked like one hot mess. There was cheese dip all over my black dress from tiny hands. My hair was wild. I was still recovering from my own meltdown. I’m pretty sure Drew was in shock from my reaction as well. I thought that surely I could not handle a toddler. What madness that would be!
And then this happened the next morning during cartoon time:
And I was reminded that I could totally handle it. As long as Drew is with me and we work together, and cherish these small precious moments, we could do it. We CAN do it.