Land of the Living

There's an area near us called 2nd Street, and I'm sure it's no different than the 2nd Street near your house. Lots of cool restaurants, dozens of quirky and overpriced shops and boutiques, a handful of ice cream parlors, and a Starbucks on either end. Pick it up and put it down in another town and no one would know the difference...

So if your 2nd Street is truly like our 2nd Street, you know that as you're navigating the sidewalks, weaving in and out of oncoming college students and baby stollers, it isn't unexpected to have to step over a dog leashed to a parking meter while waiting for owners who are dining in one of the cool restaurants mentioned above.

These dogs, who always seem to sit quietly with two paws tucked beneath their chins, always used to bring to mind my childhood dog. He often had trouble when we left him unattended in the backyard, so I used to wonder where these people were getting such patient dogs. Now, though, I have a completely different question, one that some of my readers might have asked themselves at some point.

Have you ever wanted to leave your three-year-old boy tied to a parking meter outside a restaurant?

Before you navigate over to some child protection website, relax. I'd certainly take some food out to him along with some milk in a to-go cup, but he would definitely be staying outside for the duration of the meal. At least that's how it goes in the dream...

I began dreaming about this in earnest last weekend when Leslie and I dropped Alison, Henry, and Kate (all three!) off at the grandparents and went out for a night on the town. We met up with Kathleen (a friend from Leslie's side of the blogosphere) and her husband Shawn. (We met in Santa Monica at their version of 2nd Street. They call it "3rd Street." Very original.) We had a great time doing the things that normal people do: shopping, walking, talking, eating, and playing skee-ball. You know, the usual.

But there was one moment that stood out above the rest of the evening, a moment that reminded me of what life used to be like before the little blessings arrived. The four of us sat through a fairly long dinner (and by this I mean more than ten minutes) and then enjoyed dessert. (It should be noted that we DID NOT have to check to see that everyone had actually earned their dessert by finishing their dinner -- we just ordered it!)

Okay, here comes the moment. As I was enjoying the last bit of my Italian cheese cake with blackberry sauce and resisting the urge to slide my index finger around on the plate to suck up any calories my fork had missed, the waitress appeared next to our table and asked if anyone wanted a cup of coffee. Why yes, I thought. I would like a cup of coffee.

The coffee came, and I took my time with it. A cup of coffee after dinner -- an afterthought for most people -- was suddenly the most decadent pleasure imaginable. Had our three children been along with us on that Saturday night, having a cup of coffee would've made about as much sense as inviting a group of Buddhist monks to create a sand painting on our table. A disaster waiting to happen.

No, things would've been different with the kids. The normal routine is designed to minimize the time you spend in the restaurant, and it usually goes something like this:

1. Choose an establishment where you've eaten often enough that you've memorized the menu. This way you can order as soon as your ass hits the booth.
2. No appetizers. Are you kidding me?
3. No conversation between parents. This diverts attention from the children, who could be causing mayhem on many levels. Henry once took a handful of food from his plate and threw it onto the plate of someone at the next table over. We said nothing.
4. One parent -- this is always me -- should eat as fast as humanly possible. Kobayashi-fast. As soon as this person finishes, he becomes a free safety of sorts, scanning the table for any sign of trouble.
5. Be prepared for anything. Henry has vomitted the last three times he has eaten at our local El Torito. We're fairly certain that there's a picture of us next to a red button behind the hostess desk, so we don't go back.
6. Put your credit card on the table as soon as the food arrives. This way you won't have to wait for the waiter to come back after leaving the bill.
7. Dessert? If possible, take it to go.

And finally...
8. When the waiter asks if you'd like a cup of coffee, do your best not to laugh.

Unless, of course, you've had the foresight to leave your children leashed to the parking meter outside. In that case, cream or sugar?

Comments

[AdventureDad]

I like your thinking. We have implemented your strategy on a somewhat limited basis here in Sweden. If you go to any café/restaurant you will see lots of strollers outside. Some will be empy but many will be filled with sleeping kids. It's very common that you leave kids sleeping in their stroller while parents enjoy some food and some quietness. Thi spplies both to sinter and summer. The restaurants/cafe´s do have some large windows so you can see if your kid wakes up. We like to leave the kids outside but they are still treated slightly better than dogs.

Your initila reaction might be that Scandinavian parents are irresposible idiots but it really works out well, both for kids and parents, and I have never heard of any problems. We do of course bring the kids inside if they are awake. But perhaps your idea about leaving them outside deserves more thought....

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[Theresa]

Um, it gets easier as the kids get older. We don't even need to industrial size roll of antacids anymore. It's nice. Hint: bring paper and crayons in gallon sized ziplock bags, so you can enjoy the coffee.

[lesbonstemps]

I laughed when I read your description of the normal routine. That's exactly how it is. My husband and I have pretty much given up on going out to dinner with the kid. We either get a babysitter or just have takeout.

[Leslie]

Someday soon (like in 18 years), we'll be able to take leisurely dinners again. But by then we'll miss the chaos, I'm sure.

On second thought, maybe not.

[Not-For-Profit Dad]

Too funny. Awesome post.

[Dutch]

Agreed, excellent post. Those rules should be tattoo'd on every baby's chest when they hand them to you in the hospital.

I too, look at those scruffy-ass mutts leashed to parking meters in trendy neighborhoods and wonder how their owners got such good dogs. My childhood dogs always did stuff like eat through drywall or bark incessantly for four hours when left to their own devices.

And crap, we're already the parents who look at other people's kids who sleep on planes or politely introduce themselves to relatives they meet for the first time with longing. I'm sure it's all a matter of training. I had a friend who was really into dog training. He showed me his "hot box"--- a cardboard box he put the puppy in under heat lamps when the puppy was bad. I told him he was a freak and he told me I was weak.

We are weak. Oh well.

[anne]

I know your routine very well, one more step that we do is check if it's "Kids Eat Free" night. If you're going to suffer, you might as well suffer on a budget.

[Kathleen Rossi]

So funny... I need to take notes here, let's see in some future incarnation of the life of Shawn and Kathleen we'll have to delete appetizers, dessert, and coffee from our normal restaurant routine... hmm... now I'm suddenly daydreaming about the line-up of strollers outside the restauants in Sweden. ;)

We really enjoyed our night out with you and Leslie, you two need to get your Disneyland passes now so we can meet up there sometime too. Think Skeeball!! :D