I had a Brain-Fart!

Since Marlboro Man is working practically around the clock these days, because the corn in the fields is drying faster than they can chop it .... I thought I would take my little trio of terror out to eat this evening. By myself.

I have done this before on several occasions. Each time I swear within my deepest inner being and to God and to anyone or anything that will listen, that I will never, under no circumstances, even if they are starving to death, will I take them into a restaurant again, alone.

But I did. I did it tonight. What was I thinking? That my two years old triplets would walk in holding hands and properly sit at the table .... and eat. I must have been delusional from hunger, or suffering from oncoming senility!

First of all, you have to understand that the only place that this is even remotely possible is a buffet. We all know that buffets draw in people like magnets ... and not all the magnets are dealing with a full deck. Most are worse off than me. Me ... who just had a short term deck adjustment, and ME ... who lives in a fantasy world. Ha~

Let me begin by telling you it wasn't pretty ... and that I am never ever taking them into a restaurant alone again. Never! I am posting a note on the dashboard of my car, to remind myself, in case I get this wild hair-brained idea again. GO TO MCDONALD'S! DRIVE THROUGH ONLY!

First of all, this was a spur of the moment idea. Megan was wearing a brand new white dress that my niece brought her back from Mexico. The boys had on white shirts as well. I had NO BIBS! This nice cheap Buffet I chose did not furnish throw away bibs. They did furnish however, at least 700 napkins that we shredded onto the floor. ... and of those 700 napkins, at least 480 of them got wet.

Another thing about having triplets and taking them to a Buffet alone, is that you have to sit as close to the food as you can. They have to constantly be in your sight while you're filling their plates. You can't have your kids snatched just because you're a hungry hippo. So that means that you are FRONT and CENTER for all the magnets to see! Not only do they see .... they want to touch, and they have to stop and talk. Not only do you get every magnet leaving the restaurant as they pass by, you also get every magnet that is coming into the restaurant as they are seated. It makes my head spin. I need to post a sign on the table that says:

• yes, they are triplets, but please keep walking.
• it's none of your business if I did fertility
• no I didn't automatically qualify for welfare did you?
• no, we don't work for the circus
• how dare you ask how much they cost?
• yes, I'm the Mother
• yes, I really am the Mother
• yes, triplets can be a mix of boys and girls
• yes, you are rude
• no, you can't take their picture
• please don't touch them
• please stop clucking

Within five minutes of sitting down, Megan leans over, lifts her butt off the booster seat and says in her prettiest little girl voice, "Mommy, I have to poop." I whisper to her, "eat first, okay?" "No Mommy, Megan has to poop" she says. Of course, Jay being the narrator and spokesman for the group and the loudest says, "Meggie has to poop." There is no way I can take Megan to poop. I knew that. I can not leave the boys there alone and I can not take all three of them to a potty at a Buffet .... alone. Why would I take three two year olds to a Buffet all by myself when they won't stay in their seats, are very vocal, loud, obnoxious and in the throes of potty training?. It's called a Brain-Fart my friends!

I could hear the snickers of most of the people around us. Those that thought it was funny to watch me sweat .. and those that obviously weren't amused at all. Some had pity looks and one trucker-man winked and said, "honey, looks like ya got chur hands full there." (I won't even comment or go there)

Needless to say, I put nice tip on the table .. up righted all the spilled drinks, gathered up my trio and all the paraphernalia they carried in, left all 700 shredded napkins on the floor, hiked Jay up under my armpit while he was screaming and kicking for ice cream, raised my nose sky high and left.

As I rounded the corner I saw that I had to stand in line to pay .... I had my horizontal football (Jay) under my arm and was grabbing Meg and Sam to keep them from bee-lining to the candy shelves that they purposely display by the cash register. I wonder how they would have liked to have about twenty jars of their pretty Amish jelly on their tile floor?

While I'm waiting, a ADA (advanced maternal age) woman walks up to me with cute little twin girls dressed alike and says, "cute little twin boys you have there ... how old are they?" I tell her they will be three in October, and skip the triplet thing. She then comments that her girls will be three October 17th. Same birthday as my squirts. Then she says, "oh, you their Mother? How old is your little girl?" So I tell her that she will be three in October as well. This is one smart woman ..... "Oh, twin boys and the girl is a triplet. Did you do fertility? Do you know Dr. Gentry? (fertility doctor) He has a lot of baby's out there you know. Do you do playgroups? You live around here? It's hard isn't it? Being older and having twins and a triplet .... I don't meet a lot of Mom's my age." Whew!

I just had to open my mouth and ask the question: "how old are you?" She answers, "forty-seven, how old are you?" I tell her, "I just turned fifty in May." "Oh" she says, "you're just their Grandmother then, right? I thought you were their Mother, but you're too old!" Brain-Fart! Brain-Fart! Brain-Fart!

As I loaded them into my little work car, that has three car seats across the back seat, I could feel the eyes of all the people in the restaurant pressed against the window staring at this mad woman with three screaming kids. I even thought I could hear one old woman cluck. But I was determined to be a proud woman. I would not look back. I wanted to, but I didn't. Well, just a little. Only once. And, only out of the corner of my eye as I drove off.

This was far worse than going to Wal-Mart!

Be Blessed,
Tan