It Was the Best of Days, It Was the Worst of Days

I turned 30 yesterday. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about that. Right now, I feel tired--but that's proabably because Judah was up twice last night--once at two, and once at four. I suspect he's going through a growth spurt, since, up until a few nights ago, he was sleeping through the night without a problem! Hopefully, he will grow quickly, and go back to his former sleep patterns.

Anyway. Back to 30. The day started out like any other day. Judah got up, then I did, then Charis. Breakfast and Judah's morning nap proceeded normally. Then Beth called, to see if she and Gideon could take me out to lunch to celebrate my birthday. It sounded like a good idea, so at about 12:15, I packed up the kids and headed out of the door for one of the lunchtime cafes we like. The sky that morning had been clear, but was now beginning to look ominous, and just minutes into the drive, it began to pour. Pour. It was raining so heavily, I considered stopping and waiting it out, but I pressed on. Great timing, I thought.

Of course, when I arrived at the restaurant, all of the front spots were taken. There was just one spot left--located at the furthest point away from the entrance one could imagine. So I parked, loaded Judah up into the front pack, covered him with a blanket, and ran around to get Charis out of her seat. Carrying both of the children (no easy task), I ran towards the door. We were, needless to say, a little damp when we got inside the very crowded restaurant.

We were seated, and Beth and I put the kids on the outside of the table so as to keep them from playing with the sugar packets, table tent, salt and pepper shakers... She then gave the kids some matchbox cars to play with, which they proceeded to "drive" off of the table, say, two or three dozen times. We decided to switch the kids to the inside. It would be a hassle to switch them, we knew, but it would ultimately make less of a scene, and less work for the waitress, who was continually picking up crashed cars from the walkway.

The transition went okay, except that by this time, Charis had already had enough of the booster seat. I gave her some ice water in her cup--without the top, no less--to appease her and to cease the ruckus she was making. I know it seems a little foolish to give a two-year-old a cup with no lid, but I thought, what could happen? She'll get a little water on herself. No big deal. What I didn't bargain for, though, was that the tantrum would continue, and she would pretty much throw her cup across the table at Beth--soaking the table, Beth, and the floor. Again, a hapless waitress came to our rescue and mopped up the mess with towels. They were far more absorbent than the beverage napkins I was using.

I was feeling frazzled at this point, and Beth was feeling soggy, but then our food arrived, and I thought food would make it all better--a nice diversion for the kids, and some tasty refueling for us--but it just went downhill from there.

Charis wanted no part of the little dish of food I set aside for her--she wanted to play in my food. And it was just that--playing. The precious angel hadn't the slightest inclination towards eating.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. Remember Judah, the easy, tantrum-free babe tucked peacefully in my front pack? He was apparently conjuring up a little scene of his own. Or, should I say, conjuring down--because right about then, when I had just about had it with the whole joyful experience, I felt some warmth spread over my thigh. I reached down to see how far the wetness had spread, and found, to my dismay, that it wasn't merely wet, it was...gloopy. Judah had created his own little mess, a large, bright yellow, smeary mess all across my tan linen pants. I stood up, grabbed the diaper bag, and scampered off to the restroom, where, of course, there was no baby changing facility, and the roomy handicapped stall was locked, so I crowded us into the small stall, crouched down on the floor, and spread out a blanket to do a mini-bath for Judah and a little scrub-a-dub-dub for me, too. Gross. I opened up the blanket, tucked it into the waist of my pants to disguise the disgusting mess, and returned to the table.

Check, please. And some to-go boxes for our uneaten lunches.

It goes without saying that two things happened immediately upon our return home: 1)The kids went down for naps, and 2)I did a serious load of laundry.

Then I cried a little, and watched a movie. I just couldn't take it any more. Happy Birthday to me.

But Abe came home, and it got better. He brought me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I have ever seen in my life. I also received a lovely flower delivery from my Aunt Connie, a box of books and candy from my parents (great combo), a soldering iron and stand from my brother and sister-in-law, and when it was all quiet, I listened to the many messages left for me on my voice mail of birthday well-wishers. The kids slept until about 6, then we went to one of my favorite places, a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican place called Nina's. Charis was cooperative and spent most of her time stuffing her face with mexican rice, and Judah sat quietly in his carseat (!!!) We went home, did a little bit of yard work, I talked with my parents and my friend Tiff, and then we watched another movie. It staarted out horrendously, but the big 3-0 ended up being a (mostly) peaceful and enjoyable day.

I'll process how I feel about 30 later.