Baby VS High Chair: Public Humiliation

For the first time in a long time, my husband and I decided our taste palate was lacking a certain zest… a desire that could only be fulfilled by venturing out into the world of where the food is made and delivered to your table. The only effort put forth is driving to the location… perhaps a moment or two choosing what entrée to eat, and subtly masking your anticipation of the taste explosion your mouth was about to experience. But for all intents and purpose, eating out is effortless. I for one was very excited about this decision. No meal to make. No dishes to clean. Perhaps even a glass of wine with dinner.
With a child however, especially a young child, your dining options tend to narrow… you descend from the classy, upscale restaurants, with low lighting, delectable cuisine, and ambiance, to kid friendly, high lighting, mediocre food quality, fast paced, packed burger joint. Quick. Easy. Uncomplicated. Yet somehow what started out as a well-intentioned plan to enjoy dinner out on St. Patties day… turned into a sit still and behave battle between an 11 month old and two mid to upper twenty something’s.
We soon learned after 2.3 minutes at the table that *A. just wasn’t okay with her high chair there, and screaming- playfully mind you- at the top of her lungs was how she wanted to communicate with every one in the room. After demoting ourselves from parents to circus clowns, trying desperately to entertain and quiet her so those around could enjoy their dinner, it became apparent that our little miss chatter box had no intention of cooperating. Each of us across from another, burger in one hand, daughters shoulder in another, my husband and I quickly tried to ingest as much food as we could. Asking for our check, paying cash “keep the change” and bolting for the door, banishing ourselves in social exile to the land of parenting purgatory… the welcoming motto “your kids will be twice as bad as your were… Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!” I know if my mother were alive, she’d be rolling in laughter. I however feel like the stacks and mountains of parenting how-to books, what expect yadda yadda… are filled with sugar coated, hot air, bullshit that only relates to a strange breed of an angel child, I’ve yet to encounter in my lifetime.
Now that we’ve lived and learned that experience, its carry out orders for those daring dinner nights, and at home parenting battles… Baby VS Highchair… 3 times daily.