I NEED A RAISE

Today I left a twenty dollar tip.

That's right. $20.00. And no, I did not eat two-hundred dollars worth of food. Not even close. After running a few last minute errands to finish up our Halloween costumes for a few parties this weekend, I decided (badly, I now realize) to take my kids to lunch at Souper Salad.

And it's not like this was the first time we've been there, but it was the first time I've been there by myself with the kids. And let's just say, um, it didn't go so well. Now, I take my kids out to eat all the time. And usually we are pretty successful. I'd say about 92.5% of the time we get in, eat, get out and on with life, without any problems. Today? Not. So. Much.

I knew we were off to a bad start when we had to wait about 5 minutes for a cashier so we could pay just to eat. In that time period, Thing 1 managed to drop his tray, and lick it. Seriously. He just doesn't get it. We've had the germ discussion many times. Ewww. Finally we pay, and Thing 1 heads straight for the pudding, of course. And pudding my friends, tends to be rather messy. And yes, he managed to make a disaster of the pudding. Chocolate all in the vanilla. Vanilla all in the chocolate. It was a travesty. But I didn't even get to see it all go down, cause I was trying to wrangle Thing 2, who apparently has a severe allergic reaction to the ground, in which, if her feet happen to tragically touch it, she starts screaming and crying like a madwoman.

So, I've got Thing 2 on my hip, my bag, and two trays of food. Um, yeah. And I have no earthly idea where Thing 1 is. Oh, now I see him. He is trying to fill his entire tray with cottage cheese. And managing pretty well, except for the scoop of goldfish drowning in the two messy scoops of pudding. I love how he is so independent. *wink*.

Finally get settled, am just biting in to my delicious, warm, bread stick when Thing 2 decides to knock over her drink while she was trying to blow her straw wrapper across the table at Thing 1. (A special thank you at this time should go out to Hubs for teaching her this lovely trick.) Only one spilled drink, eh, not so bad. We've survived worse. Continue to eat our lunch when out of the blue, Thing 1 announces he needs to go potty and runs at the speed of light off to the bathrooms by himself. Nice. Now what? Try to talk Thing 2 into going to the potty? Just let him go by himself? I just don't think 4 is old enough to go to a public restroom by yourself normally, but since we sat, at a table where I could see the bathroom entrance I decided to just let him go, and watch to make sure no one else was to go in there. So, I'm waiting. And waiting. And then, out of nowhere.

CRASH!

And, you guessed it. The crash came from the boys bathroom. Oh, great. I grab Thing 2, who is mid-bite of her ice-cream, say a quick prayer, and sprint to the bathroom with a stubborn two-year old aboard my hip. Get into the bathroom to find Thing 1 on the ground (gross--germs!) in a very large, very bright blue pool of hand soap. And the broken dispenser (see picture above) on the ground, in pieces. The water is running, and the soap is EVERYWHERE! Oh, by the way, Thing 1 decided on this day to brilliantly wear his an army costume out for the day. Which is hanging off of him, COVERED in blue goop.

I try to put Thing 2 on the ground, but apparently she must have a fatal allergy to the boys bathroom floor, cause she is clinging to me like a koala. I try to help Thing 1 up, strip his costume off of him, during which he has the audacity to complain about it. "But it's my costume, Mom! I can't be an army guy without it." To which I just responded with my you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me-about-your-costume-that-is-now-covered-in-soap-along-with-the-entire-bathroom-floor-that-I-now-have-to-clean-up look. It was a magical look, because he just went quiet. So, I decided that there was only one thing to do. Leave.

Ha. Just kidding. I'm not that bad. I grabbed Thing 1, told him to stand against the bathroom wall, and to not move a muscle. I thought about having him help clean up, but the floor was so slippery that he kept falling so I just decided it would be easier for me and my hip-monkey to do it. So, while holding Thing 2 I grabbed as many paper towels as humanly possible and just started pushing all the bright blue goop to the drain. If it weren't for that drain, I'm not sure what I would have done. So, yes, today I scooped soap OFF THE BOYS BATHROOM FLOOR. And I didn't get any diseases. That I know of. Yet. Pray for me please.

After I mostly got things cleaned up, I found the nearest waitress, told her about the dilemma, and made Thing 1 apologize. Then I apologized. Profusely. I could tell this wasn't news she wanted to hear. And I apologized again.

And then I headed back to the table with Thing 1 (bare-chested) in his shorts (luckily he had shorts on), his soapy army costume in my hand, and Thing 2 still attached with her death grip on my hip. Not two seconds later, Thing 1 announces he needs to go to the bathroom. Seriously. Are you kidding me? He had the audacity. He says "it's poop this time mom, and it's coming out." To which Thing 2 responded, "We don't say potty words." That was my cue to leave. I laid down a twenty dollar tip. And we left. Before we could cause any more damage.

Moral of the story: Don't ever take two kids to Souper Salad by yourself. Ever. Even in emergency situation. Even if someone offers you a free meal. It's just not worth it. Trust me.

Epilogue: Thing 1 made it home just in the nick of time. Everything came out fine. The costume is in the wash. And both are down for quiet time.

I. Need. A. Raise.