I had a dream I left my kids at home (this is a dream, don’t call social services) and met my husband for lunch at Sushi Den. It was lovely. We meandered our way through the menu, savored a couple of glasses of wine and ordered two deserts. I even recalled placing a napkin on my lap. On the drive home from this dream lunch, it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have left the kids at home.
Interesting that this thought first occurred to me on the drive home.
Approximately seven hours before that very dream (now we are in reality), I was sitting at a restaurant with the husband. Except this time we weren’t alone (reality, remember) and the experience wasn’t quite so lovely.
Super Cal was with his grandparents for the evening and Ted and I decided to go to the mall with the twins, and get a little head start on holiday shopping. We figured we’d browse for jeans, make some returns, grab some dinner, stroll, and laugh. We also figured the babies would love all of the lights, people, and distractions.
Well, we figured wrong.
We had moved about five feet from the car after parking when the twins started howling, and not with excitement. The tandem stroller proved a bad choice because Goose in the back kept kicking Maverick up front, so much so that Mav had to contort himself completely horizontal (legs on the drink tray) to avoid the pummeling from his co-pilot in back.
The leisurely stroll around the mall turned into a moderate pace jog /relay race in which we had to take turns doing the “shopping” and the “makingsurethestrollerneverstopsmoving-ing.” The bright side was the babies’ cries were drowned out by a choir’s rendition of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” blasting through the speakers (and apparently the clouds outside too). It was a good reminder because Christmas was a mere 40 days away.
And then came dinner.
To their credits, our dynamic duo lasted a legitimate 45 minutes at the table, approximately 42 minutes longer than I thought they would (mostly because we were shoving everything we possibly could (edible or not) into their mouths and even letting them play with knives). But, in the end, we stood at our table with our uneaten pizza in a to-go box, each of us standing with a marinara-covered baby in one hand and slamming a full glass of red wine with the other hand.
And then we laughed. Because sometimes, that’s all you can do. And because it’s funny.
Sushi Den, I will see you in my dreams.
For now, we’ll stick to the food court.
Love me some Sbarro and Orange Julius.