Yesterday Mark went back to work. It was broken up a bit by Mary Jane’s three-week checkup at the midwife’s; we picked Mark up on the way, so everyone got to see Daddy, always a bonus. She’s doing fine, gained twelve ounces in two weeks.
After we dropped him off, around twelve-thirty, the boys clamored: "Let’s go somewhere for lunch!"
They know I’m easy to convince. I probably take the kids out for lunch more often than I should. The thing is: I like going out to lunch. I went out to lunch all the time when I was in graduate school, and before that in undergraduate. I learned how to enjoy going to restaurants by myself when I was traveling solo in Europe as a sophomore. Before that I was always kind of embarrassed to be seen sitting at a restaurant table alone — I felt that diners were staring at me, as if I’d been stood up. But I learned to take a journal with me, or something to read, or a crossword puzzle, or (later) a pad of paper with something I was trying to derive written on it. Later, too, the coffeeshops proliferated all over the country, and it became normal even in Ohio for people to sit at tables in public places with something to drink and eat and a book, or a laptop. Anyway, restaurant meals out may be expensive, but they’re really one of my favorite ways to spend money. I think they’re worth it, especially at lunch time.
After I had Oscar, I found myself far too often longing for Beef Black Bean Pan Fried Noodle or a gyro or plantains or some other such thing I can’t really make at home, so I started taking him to restaurants with me. Not very often, maybe once a month or so, but often enough that I got used to it. I do try not to take the kids at the height of the lunch rush, and I try to stick to places that have a fair amount of background noise and that I know have quick service. (Fortunately, the Vietnamese and Mexican places nearly all qualify.) What the children really love are buffets, but the logistics with that are not as good as you might think unless the adult-to-kid ratio is 1:1.)
I insist on Best Behavior, too. I always remind them before we go that the reason we are able to go out to lunch is that I can trust them to speak in low voices and stay in their seats. This reminder has worked well with Oscar since he was about three (not so good before that — we had a long restaurant hiatus from 18 months to 36 months) and with Milo all along.
One of the ways I’ve kept my courage up, to take the kids out to lunch often enough that they remember how to behave and I remember how to make it go smoothly, is this: I make a rule that we can eat out, but I can’t go through a drive-through. It’s a common temptation, when I’m hurrying from place to place, to just get them a damn hamburger already. Also, some french fries start to sound pretty good to me as well. So — I don’t let us do it. The second trick, which I recommend highly, is to bring a spare clean shirt for each person (yes, me too) whenever we leave the house. That way nobody goes to the grocery store afterward with ketchup stains.
So back to yesterday: I was going to say no, but then I thought: This is my first day out with three children, by myself. I have to do it sometime unless I’m going to give up on it. I briefly considered going to my favorite Vietnamese place — what is better for children than a restaurant where "salad" can mean eggrolls on top of noodles? — but decided to play it just a little bit safer, in terms of the expectations of the wait staff and the uniformity of the time-for-service, and went to a chain "family restaurant" near the university that has the children’s menu printed on the paper placemat, which comes with crayons. (Near the university, too, I didn’t want to hit any of my favorite spots — too great the likelihood of running into a former professor, which normally I don’t mind, but this was my first day out.)
And do you know what? It went well! Mary Jane slept in the sling the whole time and didn’t wet her diaper, and the boys (who were warned that if they were loud or unruly, would not get to go out to lunch with Mommy again until I felt brave enough to try it, which would be a very long time) stayed in their seats and colored their placemats and ate their pasta. I had a sandwich and some coleslaw and talked to my kids and had a fine time. Milo announced that he never wanted to sit in a high chair again because he was Not A Baby, and I promised that next time we go out, he could sit in a regular chair if he asked. My only regret is that I didn’t make the kids split a kid’s entree, because they were HUGE.
Maybe Vietnamese food next week.
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