I lost my mind during the month without McMister and miscalculated on when it would end. I thought we still had another week to go, but Friday was a normal day for him, and he had the whole weekend off! Now he's off on an overnight fishing trip so I guess for me, it's back on for a few more days. (ETA I guess it's actually going to be about a week and a half with him gone a lot of the evenings because of all the fishing trips he has planned. Real cute.) Either way, we went out for happy hour dinner on Friday to celebrate his return to the real world.
Normally, we wouldn't do this. If we go out to eat with the girls, we do it with my mom and (sometimes) sister so we have extra hands on deck. We also always go to the same restaurant and sit in a back room where other patrons can go if they want. Inevitably, though, they walk back, see Puffs flying in every direction, hear Lyla shrieking with joy over people food, and feel the wind off Gracie's back as she sprints around the room, and immediately turn their backs on us to go out and eat in the regular restaurant.
Friday though, he suggested happy hour, and I was spent from the month of alone time with the girls and jumped at the opportunity not to cook.
We met there and after we all sat down he said, "I normally would think this was a terrible idea... but after a month of not seeing you guys, I'm really excited to be here!"
Who is this man, and what did he do with my husband?
It all went smashing! I sat there reminiscing about the meal we had just eaten and patted us on the back in my head at how well we dined out.
Sure, there was a table of three men in suits sitting next to us who probably thought, "Sh*t! Why did they sit us next to them?" when they sat down, but Gracie charmed them the whole time, continually scooting across the five-tables-long booth and sitting right next to them like she owned the place. They smiled and cooed over her as she flirted like only a 2-year-old can. And we offered cordial thank-you smiles whenever we dragged her back to give them their peace.
Lyla kept turning around in her high chair and putting one leg in the very back while keeping one leg in the front, doing some pretty impressive splits. I kept spinning her back around, but she just kept doing it.
If these are the worst of our problems, I thought, we've got it made!
I was grinning the smuggest of all smug grins while we waited for our check, and it felt like everyone around us was relieved at our well-behaved brood. I said so to McMister and turned back around to see Lyla completely backwards in the high chair, 90% of the way out the bottom holding on for dear life to the back of the seat like some sort of baby cliff-hanger.
I sprang into action, trying to grab her out as quickly as possible, saving her from a fall and trying to save us from more embarrassment.
I couldn't do it. Her bum was stuck. I couldn't lift her back up the way she came. She was going to have to come out the bottom.
"I need your help!" I whisper-shouted to McMister, and he leapt toward us. Now that we both had our hands on her, and I knew she was safe, but still stuck, I busted up laughing. My face was beet red, and I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Eventually, we got her out the bottom of the seat, and she was pretty much none-the-wiser.
McMister and I sat back down, Lyla now in my lap, and turned to Gracie. She was chugging the pepper shaker.
After McMister diffused that situation, I couldn't wait for that damn check to come.
I glanced around nervously and noticed what had come to the three suits' table during our mayhem.
"Look what they got!" I said to McMister. "They're having a shot party!"
"That's beer," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's called a sampler."
Remember? I'm not cool in beer world.
Gracie obviously noticed things had started to take a serious backslide and took the opportunity to roam around the restaurant while we gathered our things. She hid behind the floor-to-ceiling shades on the windows, took one of those giant pepper grinder things off the wall behind a server station, and tried to break into the glass case of restaurant-logo-ed t-shirts. (Wow, reading that back it sounds like she tried to break into the case with the pepper shaker. She's not that advanced yet.) This is making us sound like the worst restaurant-goers of all time, but she seriously did it all within about 90 seconds. So all in all, our chaos tornado wasn't that big of a percentage of their entire trip.
Anyway, we tipped well and went on our way with smiles on our faces, food in our hair, and fear in our hearts (about the next time we attempt such a trip).