For the love of.....barbecue chicken

Just a little glimpse into an evening with my precious child....she's been a handful lately, so here's just a little peek of why I'm exhausted lately.

I LOVE Ruby Tuesday's new barbecue chicken. I mean I LOVE IT! I crave it. I yearn for it. I could eat it every day. So we eat there about once a week. I've been trying to get Mari to have better restaurant manners - she tends to be distracted and distracting when we go out with others and it's pointless to try to carry on conversations with adults while she's along. So I'm trying to give her some one-on-one time in restaurants to get her to understand a little social etiquette. She's actually been doing very well recently with this. So, tonight, I decided to head to Ruby's again. Mari loves the barbecue chicken too - it's about the only restaurant that she will actually eat something (usually too distracted) and she usually even finishes this.

So, we pull up to the restaurant and it's virtually empty (the one saving grace about the evening). We walk in and before the hostess can even greet us, Mari says "Hey, where's my lemonade?" Oh dear, I should have turned around and left. But that chicken was close enough to taste. So I ask for a booth while the hostess (obviously new) fumbles around for the crayons until Mari dives into the cabinet and picks out her own pack. Which was totally unnecessary since we always have a box of crayons in my purse. Anyways, did I mention the chicken is awesome?

So we go to the booth and sit down and Mari immediately starts the dropping the crayon-crawling under the table to retrieve it-finding more yucky crayons game. The waiter presents himself and it's obvious that the only experience he's had with kids is....well, none at all. He starts giggling while asking Mari if she's here for the carnival. WRONG THING to say, dude. So then he tries to cover his tracks by telling her that it's not a carnival, it's just a secret roller coaster with balloons. Seriously - this dude was an idiot. NEVER say balloon to a 3-yr-old unless you plan to produce one. Anywho.... So we order.

Mari's beloved lemonade is brought and she starts the take the straw out-put the straw in-take the lid off-attempt to put lid back on-getting very sticky messy game. In an attempt to keep her busy, we work on our placemat coloring page. She decides that she needs to work on her letters and numbers by screaming them (not yelling, screaming them). Sigh. Where's that chicken for her to chew on?

I decide to pretend the menu is a storybook and "read" Mari a story about a little girl that goes to Ruby Tuesdays for supper. She goes along with it for a little while until she decides to be mad that it's Ruby's Tuesday cause she likes Max better. End of the "menu" story.

So then, I smell something. "Mari, did you toot?" Of course not. "Are you sure?" Yes, Mommy. "Mari did you forget to wipe at school today." Then she stands up in the booth and PULLS HER PANTS DOWN to prove it to me. Oy.

After that fiasco, I attempt to get her interested in something else by telling her that we can send pix to cousin Brendan on my phone. So we take a couple cheesy pix and text them to Brendan....then she grabbed my phone with her sticky lemonade hands and....well, hopefully I can figure out how to turn off the bluetooth eventually.

Finally food arrives. I cut up her chicken and pour the barbecue sauce over it and prepare to dig in. Mari, meanwhile, digs into her rice pilaf with a vengance. I usually order her fries but she ends up eating all my rice, so I ordered rice for her. Unfortunately, I didn't take into account that when she eats my rice, I usually fork it into her. Mari and rice are not a neat fit. And she of course, feels she needs to pick up every grain she drops. So, after some lecturing discussion about leaving the rice on the seat and floor, she decides that she would have better motor control by picking up every little grain individually and dipping them in her barbecue sauce. At this point, I'm not even tasting my food.

After some more lecturing discussion about using a fork for good manners, she manages to stab herself in the tongue, so every bite of barbecue sauce burns. This results in her taking big bite, letting it fall out of her mouth, wiping her tongue with a napkin, taking a huge drink of lemonade (which didn't burn?????????), coughing because she gulped too much, then putting the slobbery chicken back in her mouth to finish it. And then forking up a load of rice which showers all over her lap. Again.

Did I mention during this time, she is up-down-turning around-climbing off the seat-ducking under the table-leaning over the booth to check on the other diners and leaning over to hug me to try to diffuse the steam coming from my ears?

I finally ask for a box for my food and the check and when the waiter gets back, he decides to growl at Mari. She cowers, so I try to explain that he was just joking so she stands up in the booth and ROARS at him across the restaurant.

We leave. I almost forgot my chicken. Almost being the key word there. We get to the car and Mari starts tipping her lemonade like she wants to spill it, so I take it away. She howls. We get in the car and she asks her favorite question "Are you happy, Mommy?" No Mari, I'm not. I'm exhausted and frustrated. And still hungry.

That's our life in a nutshell these days. Hopefully that chicken will taste better tomorrow.