Last week I took two of my crew to Peter Piper Pizza for the afternoon. Now, I am not a big fan of that pizza, but the kids like it. They always seem to come back stained up from using their shirts as napkins, and pizza grease is hard to wash out. But despite my complaints, they like going there. They spend stupid amounts of my pay check on the games in record time. When they get within twenty feet of our booth I grab them and force them to eat the exorbitant cardboard pizza. It's either that, or the wander back sad-faced when they're out of tokens.
Now I am on a new low-carb craze, hoping I can jumpstart my weight loss, and pizza is NOT on the menu. So I opted for hot wings. I go and grab a seat by myself with my magazine, drink, and cell in hand, trying to enjoy the little bit of alone time amidst the blinking lights and constant threat that one of my children might be abducted at any moment. The magazine is a must for any mom to carry. A book can be too engaging, and a magazine allows one to glance up when needed. It's hard to get too lost in a magazine article on recovering an old sofa.
Once the food arrived I decide to eat all by my lonesome and let the molten pizza cool off some. It didn't take me long to realize that hot wings wasn't the most glamorous thing to eat, and should probably not be eaten by yourself if you are the self-conscious sort. With every digit covered in spicy sauce, I waved to a friend of mine who walked through the door- a classy moment for sure. It was only after she and her family walked by that I noticed the large drip mark on my white shirt. I rubbed good and hard, but it only got worse as I was using a dirty napkin covered in my own hot wing goo. I totally deserved my seven-year-old's censure when he ran over to the table. His look was one of disgust as he handed me a napkin saying, "You need this more than I do."
I nixed the rest of my errands, and it was a good thing too. Liam completely forgot to mention I still had hot wing sauce on my face. Thanks, dude. I wouldn't have left him like that. But that's what happens when you hang out with little kids. You end up wearing food.
So what did I learn: First of all, no eating hot wings unless I have a drop cloth. Secondly, wearing white when doing so is never a good combination for one so messy. Most importantly, kids will always point out the irony of a situation, but they won't always tell you when you are wearing your lunch like clown make-up.
Now I am on a new low-carb craze, hoping I can jumpstart my weight loss, and pizza is NOT on the menu. So I opted for hot wings. I go and grab a seat by myself with my magazine, drink, and cell in hand, trying to enjoy the little bit of alone time amidst the blinking lights and constant threat that one of my children might be abducted at any moment. The magazine is a must for any mom to carry. A book can be too engaging, and a magazine allows one to glance up when needed. It's hard to get too lost in a magazine article on recovering an old sofa.
Once the food arrived I decide to eat all by my lonesome and let the molten pizza cool off some. It didn't take me long to realize that hot wings wasn't the most glamorous thing to eat, and should probably not be eaten by yourself if you are the self-conscious sort. With every digit covered in spicy sauce, I waved to a friend of mine who walked through the door- a classy moment for sure. It was only after she and her family walked by that I noticed the large drip mark on my white shirt. I rubbed good and hard, but it only got worse as I was using a dirty napkin covered in my own hot wing goo. I totally deserved my seven-year-old's censure when he ran over to the table. His look was one of disgust as he handed me a napkin saying, "You need this more than I do."
I nixed the rest of my errands, and it was a good thing too. Liam completely forgot to mention I still had hot wing sauce on my face. Thanks, dude. I wouldn't have left him like that. But that's what happens when you hang out with little kids. You end up wearing food.
So what did I learn: First of all, no eating hot wings unless I have a drop cloth. Secondly, wearing white when doing so is never a good combination for one so messy. Most importantly, kids will always point out the irony of a situation, but they won't always tell you when you are wearing your lunch like clown make-up.
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