A Night to Remember

A couple of weeks ago we had an exceptionally long weekend. Many games, ballet performances, birthday parties, and out of town guests. By Sunday evening we were all exhausted (and not in the most pleasant of moods). I just didn't have the energy to cook dinner, so I suggested we ecided to go to the new Mexican restaurant just up the street from our neighborhood. Cheers erupted and we set off. Although everyone wanted to go the arguing began as we were getting in the car. Who was going to sit where? Who was singing too loudly? Who smelled? We arrived to find there there would be a two hour wait--are you kidding? We couldn't get along for the 5 minute ride to the restaurant. I wasn't waiting 2 hours. So back into the car and shouts of where we should go. Chris looked at me and suggested a tried and true Mexican restaurant just down the street. This was met by boos and "we don't want Mexican" (I guess they only wanted new Mexican whatever that means). In some of our better parenting exhaustion Chris looks at me and says, "forget it we're not going out". I groan, "I have nothing to fix for dinner." "They can starve" responds Chris. Right, their blood sugar is already so low they're mean as snakes; they're all emotional from the weekend; and they're all about to eat their left arms because they're so hungry, but not feeding them dinner will fix everything. In a moment of clarity I respond, "We're the parents go to El Tarasco." Pouting begins, but I think they semi believed we wouldn't feed them, so no verbal assaults came.

We enter the restaurant which was not crowded at all; we're immediately seated directly in front of the Mexican man playing the guitar and singing country and 80's hits. As the chips were consummed, the mood began to lift and we even had a few moments of humor. These were punctuated by Christopher "dancing" at the table. The guitar playing man seems to be amused by the children, and little did we know he could hear every word we were saying. He begins to play Johnny Cash which of course means that our whole family must sing. Eventually he stops singing, but we don't notice just keep going--until one of the children notices and starts telling Chris and I to stop singing because we are so embarrassing. I suppose the children thought they were some modern version of the Von Trapp Family singers--they didn't think they were embarrassing at all.

I really do try to not embarrass my children. I was trying especially hard by this point because some of Christopher's middle school friends came in. But, and this was not my fault, Friends in Low Places begins. Really I can't help it--I have to sing. Chris joins in and I truly believe my children may die of humiliation. But they don't; instead they begin to sing along and we begin laughing and singing at the top of our lungs. I think to myself, "these are the times I want the children to remember." The song ends and Christopher whispers (not very quietly)to Sarah Katherine, "I hope they don't play the macarena or Mama may dance on the tables like she and Aunt Meredith did at the Olympics in Atlanta." Why oh why did we take pictures of that? I respond, no I won't dance this time. Sarah Katherine in her teen wisdom eyes my one margarita glass and assures Christopher I probably won't. Again, why did we keep those pictures? Christopher says, "well I would for a dollar."

Remember the guitar playing man who can hear us even though we don't think he can? You guessed it, the macarena begins and true to his word, Christopher stands up in front of the entire restaurant and dances. The cooks come out of the kitchen, the other patrons begin taking pictures, and I am laughing so hard tears are running down my face. A night to remember Growing Up Doyle.

I'm so glad we didn't make them starve that night!