Saturday night Nick and I took the girls to dinner at Cafe Eau – the poolside restaurant at the Chase Park Plaza. You know, because what says, “Wheee look at us! We’re not gonna let these kids cramp our style” more than taking a 4, 2 and 1-year-old to a place that serves $14 mac and cheese?
As with every dinner out, Ellie and Lila inform me they have to go to the bathroom juuuust as my wine arrives. And, as with every public restroom outing, chaos ensues in the handicapped stall. If you’ve never been locked in a public restroom stall with two little kids, let me tell you that the same effect can be achieved by climbing into a refrigerator box with two rabid weasels.
Afterward I held Ellie in what I like to call The Superman (balance her under the rib cage while she kicks out her legs and holds her arms under the water to wash her hands – it’s actually way more complicated than it sounds) while Lila did a song and dance routine in front of the 3-way mirror.
As my back was beginning to scream songs of regret, a 60-something woman wearing her pool cover up exited the stall next to where we had been.
“Oh my GOD they are obnoxious,” she said as she washed her hands.
My mouth dropped and I turned to her.
“E… Excuse me?”
“Yes. Your children are OBNOXIOUS.” She said emphatically, and without even casting me a glance she dried her hands and huffed out of the bathroom.
Now, as you can imagine, my knee jerk reaction was probably a lot what like yours would have been in this situation:
Well no SHITS sugar tits! Why don’t you tell me something I DON’T know? And guess what! I got one more little Hellbender out there and odds are in our favor that she is screaming her balls off as we speak. Now how ’bouts you make yourself useful and grab a leg so I can get back to getting shit faced?
My next thought was to clothesline her back into her stall, grab her by the hair and give her a toilet swirlie.
My next thought was that jail would actually be a nice little vacation.
My next thought was that I am waaay too tired to be someone’s bitch.
And by then she was gone.
And all I could do was stand there, just told by a 60-year-old woman, still holding Ellie in The Superman, open mouthed but speechless, motionless, teary eyed, looking like a huge yellow bellied chicken liver.
“I just almost kicked someone’s ass in the bathroom,” I said breathlessly to Nick as I sat down.
“Oh man, what is it with you these days?”
I almost got into a fight with the manager at Lifetime Fitness last week when I canceled my gym membership and she said – and I quote – GOOD LUCK AT CLUB CHUB. And by almost got into a fight I mean I stood there speechless, motionless, looking like a huge yellow bellied chicken liver as she laughed and walked away.
He blew it off and told me that the woman in the bathroom was probably crazy, then he asked for a full description and went inside the hotel with his fork.
She was gone, but the gross feeling she left with her ugly words was slimed all over me.
Going out with kids is always a bipolar crap shoot. Even after that dinner as we were walking around the Central West End I had half a dozen people comment on how well behaved they were. And I’ve never been more thankful for that compliment.
But trust me – I’ve seen the look of annoyed pain they are bringing with their tantrums to restaurant tables around us plenty of times. And I get it. If things go south we ask the server to box up our dinner before it even gets there and we leave. After I chug my wine.
However, it takes a special breed of asshole to bring the bad to your attention and tell you your children are obnoxious in the bathroom.
I can’t stop wondering what kind of person says something like that, and what I should have said. Was she drunk? What was she like as a child? What were her parents like? Did her broom break on the way to work and she had to walk?
Any awesome one-liners you care to share would be most appreciated, in case I ever to happen to find myself in this situation again. Because I can almost assure you that if that would have happened after the wine I would be writing this from my cell, spooning with my bitch.