I Was “That” Mom

I was totally being “that” mom. You know the one everyone wants to eject out of the restaurant.

I didn’t mean to be annoying, but with a crying baby on my hip, I guess I kind of deserved it. Right as I was thinking it would be a good time to leave and go put Owen down for a nap, Elias did the unthinkable.

Gagging over his ice-cream, the little guy lost his lunch! About that time everyone in Chick-fil-a was looking at me, and for good reason. My baby was screaming and my two-year old was spewing ice-cream all over the table. Of course I wanted to sink into a big hole, and put a lid over it so that way no one could see me. I was even daydreaming about hiding under the booth until everyone stopped looking at me, but the glares continued.

This of course didn’t faze Owen whose high-pitched squeals were getting louder by the minute. But what was I supposed to do? Quiet the baby or tend to the messy child?

I stood stupidly grinning, trying desperately not to overheat from all of the pairs of eyes staring at me. Frantically grabbing napkins I wiped Elias’ little face.

Right about the time Elias was cleaned up, I began to think I was getting things under control. For a moment there was silence. There was peace. There was the hopefully thought that we might make it out of the restaurant in one piece.

Everything was good until Owen let out an unexpected warrior shriek. Having my full attention he decided to try out his new trick. With great vigor Owen jumped. He proceeded to attempt to launch himself out of my arms. I’m telling you the kid was trying to jump to the moon!

Of course this made my heart nearly jump out of my chest as I scrambled to catch my little Jack-in-the-box baby.

If only he had happy music like a jack-in-the box that would somewhat warn me. But oh no, not my Owen, he is completely random. And I have to be ready at any moment. After all I am responsible for catching him.

This of course calls for some incredible super mom skills which I normally don’t have. But somehow on that fateful day they magically come into play. Stop right now and pray for my super mom skills…for Owen’s sake.

Well about the time I had Owen securely placed back in my arms (a.k.a. my Kong Fu grip), he began to cry. I just saved his life, he should have been thankful to be alive, but instead he wanted to cry that he hadn’t successfully made it out of my arms.

Of course I was nearly sweating from that fact that I had nearly dropped my own child, and because all of the people in the restaurant were still watching me. So here is my public apology for everyone who was at Chick-fil-a that day. Next time I will monitor my son’s intake of ice-cream, and keep a tighter grip on my little Jumping Jonny.



p.s. Today I linked up with Rags To Stitches.


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