Making a Mess

Since we are moving next week, we have eaten out much more than normal that last week or so. That seems to happen every time we move. I pack up a few dishes that I think I don't need, I do a final shopping of only necessities, then I feel like I have nothing to cook and no dishes to cook in anyway. So, we go out to eat.

Last week we had one (or more) such days.

I had had a very long day. We had been trying to find renters to finish out the lease on our rental home, and I had shown the house multiple times that day. The kids have been on edge all week. I'm sure they can sense my stress. I had been cleaning and packing and hadn't even thought about dinner.

Michael came home and suggested that we go to the Chinese buffet in town. It is cheap. My kids can get what they want. And my kids actually eat their food since they picked it. It is a great compromise for all.

We load up and go!

At one point during the meal, I went back to get a bowl of soup and to help S get something. After helping S, I send her back to the table, fill a soup cup, and set it on my plate.

I look up and see a little blond boy running with his dirty plate and cottage cheese fingers right at me.

"I want another sugar roll!"

Okay.

I got Z a roll, and immediately he starts whipping his slimy plate around. I can just see the roll sliding right off his plate.

Pause a moment.

Rewind.

When I filled Z's first plate, I told him multiple times to hold it with two hands and be careful. Of course he is 4 years old and not very patient while I help get food for 4 children, so his plate of food ended up on the floor.

Fast forward.

I can see that he is about to lose his roll. This time I don't have 2 other kids in tow, so lunging to stop him from dropping it seems like a good option.

Wrong. It was just a roll. I should have let it go.

Unfortunately for me, my plate was placed more precariously on the counter than I thought. I save Z's plate, but I lose my own.

My cup of steaming hot soup spills all down the front of me and burns my hand.

Great!

"What happened?" comes an innocent chirp.

"I made a mess! Go sit down by Dad."

Z runs back to the table while yelling, "Mom made a mess!"

I go in to the bathroom where there are, of course, no paper towels. I use the 1-ply toilet paper as best I can to clean off my clothes. But at this point I may look like I peed my pants.

Oh, the joys of children.

I go back out, inform someone they need to mop up some soup, get a new bowl, and sit with my family.

Michael doesn't quite know what to say.

I'm fuming.

Z is cheerfully eating his "sugar roll."

After a little while I cool off.

We finish dinner and head to the car.

Once in the car, Michael finishes the story he was afraid to tell me while I was mad.

Z came running over to the table yelling, "Mom made a mess. But I didn't. I beed careful."