Sunday, October 2, 2016

It's all spilled milk

There are moments with my children that will always stay with me. Funny things they said. Little snapshots in my mind of them laughing, wind blowing in their hair, sun light pouring over them. Stuff like favorite bedtime stories and morning snuggles. Moments however fleeting that for some reason even as they are passing you know will just stay with you. I cherish them. I really do. Because there are days I need them... to get me through... all the spilled milk.

We were going to the post office which my kids hate almost as much as I hate going to the gynecologist. There is a subway next to the post office. My middle child begged to eat lunch at subway this particular day. Why they love subway is beyond me since they practically gag at the sight of prepackaged cold cuts which is the staple of a subway sandwich. Somehow it taste better if they cant see the plastic package it came in and costs twice as much.

To subway we go. I don't love taking them out to eat in public places. By which I mean I avoid it as much as I possibly can. But it'subway. What could really go wrong??? Besides everything.

Three. Three is a funny age. You've passed terrible two. They are no longer a wobbly toddler. They don't need a high chair. It should all be smooth sailing from here on out.  It's totally not. Not at all. Three is the age of independence and indecisiveness. Three is nonsense and tantrums that even terrible two can't touch. Three is bipolar and belligerent. Three is emotional and very, very loud.Three makes me want four to hurry up and visit.

We walk in and there is a line. Ugh. Three and waiting don't mix. But we make it through. After asking 1,345 times what he'd like to eat we finally order (the lunch he won't eat anyway). At the counter they tell us the kids meal comes with chocolate milk. Cool. We love chocolate milk. And then it happened. Did I mention that three is unpredictable. It is. Unpredictable and explosive. The nice subway guy handed me the chocolate milk. He handed it to me. I repeat he handed it to ME not to three. I know what an asshole?! Who does he think he is handing the chocolate milk to me instead of the tiny person standing next me that he can't see from behind the counter. There was no rectifying this situation. Three had already been unforgivably offended.

I paid for our meals and headed over to the table. Sat all the kids down and passed out their lunches. I leaned over. Twisted off the cap to the chocolate milk and said see he just handed it to me so I could open it for you. Now it is all yours. Three also known as Ry stopped screaming for a brief moment. Squinted his eyes to telepathically say "go fuck yourself" as he reached over and smacked the bottom of the 12oz bottle of chocolate milk. Flipping it over. Sending it into the air as chocolate milk rained down on me and the table before he let out a scream that could be heard by the gods.

My 9 year old sprung from the table. I think he sensed that three would not be having a meltdown alone. He grabbed as many napkins as he could and began sopping up the chocolate mess.if you dont know 12oz is a lot of chocolate milk. Looking directly into my tear filled eyes he whispered "its okay mom I'm gonna clean it all up for you". I could feel the glares of all the other subway patrons. Judging. Silently feeling sorry for me. Thinking my kids would never. I sat there calmly frozen while my kids finished there lunch. Dying to disappear under the table. But I couldn't even seek refuge there as the entire floor was covered in chocolate milk.

Mom we are done. Mom. Mom. Are you ok mom??? We are ready to go!!! I sat there for another minute dreading the walk of shame out subway. As I stood a puddle of chocolate milk that had been gathered in my lap on my dress ran down my legs and into my shoes. I made 2 trips back and forth to the table to throw our garbage out with brown liquid dripping down my legs and shoes making that wet squishy squeaking noise as if nothing had happened.

We made it to the car. The kids got in. I picked Ry up and sat him in his car seat. He had just gained his composure. I looked at his sweet face. Kissed him on his red hot cheek. And whispered in his ear "with God as my witness you will NEVER watch another scooby doo as long as you live if you ever act like that in public again".

And even this. This passing moment in time. One that will stay with me will serve as a reminder tomorrow may be smiles and sunshine even if today was all spilled milk.