Scrooge You

This morning I set out to met my girls for bagels and coffee at Panera.

It was one of those mornings where nothing went right.

Ryker was in a mood. He didn't seem to mind the gut-wrenching stench coming from his diaper and threw a holy-hell fit when I dried to change him. Poo and tantrums don't mix... just ask the wall by the changing table and the lovely red shirt I had intended to wear today.

When I finally de-pooed the wall and myself and went downstairs, I tried to feed him some breakfast, knowing all-to-well that he wouldn't touch anything at Panera. Evidently bananas and yogurt weren't on the Prince's menu today... they were however all over my floor and table.

So I gave up on getting some food into the little brat's body and start packing things up to go "bye-bye".

And so ensues another tantrum. "Noooooooooooo bye-bye.........nooooooooooooooooo bye-bye. Noooooooooooooo shoe..........nooooooooooooooooooooo shoe!"

I am not sure at what point my son learned to speak so well, but it certainly coincides with his newly found independence and defiance. And oh, what a wonderful thing it is. Welcome to the terrible two's... about four months early.

So here I am, fighting with this little monster, trying to get shoes and a coat on him. All the while I am breaking into a sweat in the last-minute-sweater I had to change into. And mid-tantrum, he throws himself down and cracks his head. And in a wonderful mommy-moment, my reaction is.... "Serves you right son."

I scoop him up and strap him in the car. Great, now I'm late. I hate being late. It makes me twitch. And sweat. Even more.

And of course one of my girl's sends me a text to get my butt to Panera... dammit.. that girl knows how slow I am at texting. And not a good idea while driving... and twitching... and sweating.

Finally we arrive. And Ryker is in full-on bad ass mode. He won't sit, he won't eat... except for the few moments he eats raspberry cream cheese by the fist full right out of the container. He is harassing some poor man sitting by the fire quietly working away on his laptop.

I can't concentrate on the conversation. And damn its hot in Panera. Still sweating.

I am about to excuse myself from my friends and strangle my son, when some lovely good-Samaritan mom offers up some fruit snacks that finally shut the little man up for a full five minutes.

And then he is off and running again. He heads back over towards the fireplace, where another man is sitting, reading the paper. I immediately go retrieve him, hoping not to interrupt anyone else's quiet time and apologize to the two men...

"I'm sorry, we will be leaving soon."

And the newspaper-reading man's response, "Can't be soon enough for me."

Can you see the dumb-founded look on my face? Excuse me? I was trying to be nice. I'm ready to have a nervous breakdown trying to keep up with this beast and here I am apologizing and you want to be an ass? Haven't you had kids? Or grandkids? Is this not a public establishment where EVERYONE, no matter their level of good behavior is welcomed?

Scrooge you bastard. Merry f*cking Christmas.

And in the words of one of my lovely girlfriends, "You want peace and quite, go to Starbucks asshole."

(I may have added the asshole to her quote, but the sentiment was definitely there!)