Learn Something New Every Day
And today I learned that taking a 2 year old and a baby to a Chinese buffet by yourself is not the smartest move ever. In all honesty, I was desperate. The closest Chinese restaurant that's actually worth anything is about an hour away, and I needed Chinese food. Needed. So, since I was already driving back from OKC, I thought the boys and I would just take a quick stop in Lawton and eat some Lo Mein and Sesame Chicken. It seemed foolproof. It wasn't.
For future reference, don't do what I did.
First, when I arrived I really needed to pee. Keep that in mind. Then I realized that I couldn't leave the boys to go to the bathroom and we'd already been seated, and I didn't want to lose our table (by taking everything with me to aforementioned bathroom) since it was one of the few tables with a full view of the buffet, which was necessary since I had to leave the boys at the table in order to get our food. That was my second big mistake. You can't really take a two year old and a baby through a buffet line. So after I threatened Little within an inch of his life to keep him from misbehaving while I was getting our food, I proceeded to load our plate while playing the toddler version of Marco-Polo (which involved Little yelling, "Mommy? MOMMY?! Mommy?" and me giving him the sinister I'm-watching-you eyes). Of course once we were finally eating, Little realized he was full on goldfish from the car ride and Tiny started fussing and no amount of waitresses coming by and giving him goo-goo eyes would do, so I got him out of the car seat only to feel the reason he was fussing squishing all over me. Yep. You know what I'm talking about. Poop. Thankfully one of the goo-goo eyed waitresses helped me get Goldfish Marco-Polo, the Poopster, and all their paraphernalia to the bathroom where I de-pooped Tiny, tried to keep a leash on Little who wanted to explore the whole bathroom (including the occupied stalls), and vainly attempted to wipe the yellow stains off of my shirt and jeans. Of course, this process was accompanied by the sound of flushing toilets, which didn't help my bladder at all. But we survived.
And then I got Starbucks. Because we don't have a coffee shop here either, of course. Thankfully, they have a drive-thru; otherwise, I would've been in big trouble because there's no way I was getting the kids out of the car again, and I'm not sure they would've served me in my poopified state. Anyway, lesson learned. Next time I'm kidnapping the Man from work and making him come with me.
For future reference, don't do what I did.
First, when I arrived I really needed to pee. Keep that in mind. Then I realized that I couldn't leave the boys to go to the bathroom and we'd already been seated, and I didn't want to lose our table (by taking everything with me to aforementioned bathroom) since it was one of the few tables with a full view of the buffet, which was necessary since I had to leave the boys at the table in order to get our food. That was my second big mistake. You can't really take a two year old and a baby through a buffet line. So after I threatened Little within an inch of his life to keep him from misbehaving while I was getting our food, I proceeded to load our plate while playing the toddler version of Marco-Polo (which involved Little yelling, "Mommy? MOMMY?! Mommy?" and me giving him the sinister I'm-watching-you eyes). Of course once we were finally eating, Little realized he was full on goldfish from the car ride and Tiny started fussing and no amount of waitresses coming by and giving him goo-goo eyes would do, so I got him out of the car seat only to feel the reason he was fussing squishing all over me. Yep. You know what I'm talking about. Poop. Thankfully one of the goo-goo eyed waitresses helped me get Goldfish Marco-Polo, the Poopster, and all their paraphernalia to the bathroom where I de-pooped Tiny, tried to keep a leash on Little who wanted to explore the whole bathroom (including the occupied stalls), and vainly attempted to wipe the yellow stains off of my shirt and jeans. Of course, this process was accompanied by the sound of flushing toilets, which didn't help my bladder at all. But we survived.
And then I got Starbucks. Because we don't have a coffee shop here either, of course. Thankfully, they have a drive-thru; otherwise, I would've been in big trouble because there's no way I was getting the kids out of the car again, and I'm not sure they would've served me in my poopified state. Anyway, lesson learned. Next time I'm kidnapping the Man from work and making him come with me.
