Today We have to descent 4,000 fretful feet to go to urgent care (because my populated mountain area, 30,000+ people doesn't have urgent care) This means added pressure to my son's ears and lots of crying. My youngest has just a cold and elevation can still mess with colds so both were screaming.
After the 1,000,000th ear infection diagnosis in my not-even-three-yet son's life, we were told the prescription would take an hour to fill. That's when I realized I hadn't eaten in almost seven hours. I was fine with just eating some crappy fast food garbage in the car but my husband said we'd go to our favorite Chinese place...besides, my son loves their food. Well apparently my husband claimed I sent him psychic messages that disclaimed my statement of "don't care. Hungry. Screaming kids. Food good. Burger King right there" and that I really meant "take me to Chinese".
Sure...I will almost always take fresh not-Panda-Express greasy Americana to fast food always...so I preferred it but was just hungry and wanted to eat quick, in the car where kids could wail.
Anyway....so we go to our favorite Chinese place, a hole in the wall where we have celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, promotions, even Christmas (or was it Easter?) once. We are such regulars that on my oldest son's birthday they brought him cake, and even have hand fed him when they saw me juggle two kids and a hungry old me.
Well today we get there as they finish staff lunch so they swept fish bones off our table (true story!) and took our order. And then...oldest wanted chopsticks and cried. Then he dropped them and cried. The youngest woke and cried. Then oldest got into high pitched banshee screen hysterics and littlest joined in. Oldest refused to eat a bite. Littlest was starved and so I had to pop out natures bottles (yep my boob) to try and appease him, at which perfect timing a stodgy old man walked past and gave me the dirtiest look. Then oldest decided to climb on my head, knock his brother off my boob, then head butt me at which point my Irish temper came out and I yelled (loud enough that the entire restaurant turned our way)?"ouch stop it!" At which point my husband demanded the check and to go boxes, as we each had maybe three bites into the meal. Even our favorite waitress was giving us the evil eye and they greeted us at the exit door with the check, basically saying pay and get the hell out.
It was a lovely day.