Let me start this story by saying I was hit in the face...BY A BALL. Getting hit in the face with a ball is the very reason I don't play ball sports. I am terrified of being hit in the face by a ball. In fourth grade I was forced to play baseball as part of physical education class. And a baseball hit me in the head right between my eyes. Traumatized, I subsequently did everything I could to avoid being the person "up to bat" and preferred to stand out in the field where I could attempt to catch stray balls but never really did.
The current version of this traumatic experience happened at the end of Asher's (age 5) martial arts class, during open gym time. I have to hold Adirah (age 1.5) back during Asher's entire class so she doesn't disturb the older kids doing martial arts. But after class the younger kids are allowed to run around on the gym, pushing around obstacles, climbing and playing with the rope swing. Today the mat was full of about 20 boys ranging from ages 5 to 12 and I had to follow Adirah around like a mother bear, making sure she was not knocked over or hurt by these big boys. It was only when we decided to leave, and I paused to say goodbye to Asher's teacher that an 8 year old boy thought it would be fun to throw a ball at the teacher. Instead, it hit my face and made my head jerk back.
In a soap opera plot, this blow to the head may have caused me to lose my memory or even regain my memory after years of amnesia. In the movie version, maybe I would have switched places with my daughter, an adult brain running around in an 18 month old body while my daughter would now have the use of my taller body and my manual dexterity. We would switched places due to the ball hitting my face at the exact moment an historical clock nearby struck 5pm. But in this decidedly uninteresting real life scenario, I was a mother, and her two children, a 30 minute drive from home with a toddler and a kindergartener who were active, demanding and hungry.
I decided to drive to a nearby Red Robin Restaurant. We almost always eat at home and these meals are almost always cooked by me, so this was a special treat. The restaurant was packed and I began to question my decision to eat out when it was so close to the children's bedtimes. While we waited, we went into the bathroom for Asher to use the toilet, while I changed Adirah's diaper. I got everyone's hands washed and when we got back to the front of the restaurant, the hostess said she would seat us. Since the restaurant was full, she asked us to leave the stroller by a door near the balloons and video games. We didn't need the stroller, but I did need to get the diaper bag, snacks for Adirah, rice milk in a bottle, and toys to occupy the kids out of the bottom of the stroller. I tucked these items under one arm while the other arm was occupied holding my daughter on my hip.
Just then, THE RED ROBIN MASCOT walked out of the door next to the place we stored the stroller. The Red Robin Mascot looks like big, red, furry, prehistoric animal with a large yellow beak. If I didn't know the name of the restaurant I would not think it was a bird at all. It looked like a bigger version of Elmo without the helium infused voice and with a more pointed head. I think older kids are entertained by this mascot, and the younger children and babies were oblivious of it's presence. Before I knew what was happening, Adirah was screaming-sreaming so loud that everyone in the restaurant turned to look. She was screaming in that way that makes a parent look at their child and wonders: "How does someone so small make so much noise? Adirah does not cry very often. This was shocking. She clearly DID NOT LIKE this big red thing moving around the room and bobbing it's big red head with the pointed yellow thing at the end.
Frantically. I tried to get Adirah away from the Giant Robin. The hostess brought us to our table and I quickly ordered over the deafening screeches of my baby girl. The Robin moved to another part of the restaurant, and Adirah calmed down. I entertained both children with the crayons and paper supplied by the restaurant and the toys that I took out of the diaper bag. Tired, injured, and starved, I thought, "Okay, we just have to get through this dinner so I can get them fed and then home and to sleep so I can finally have a break." And then......THE MASCOT CAME BACK. The Giant Red Robin cheerfully hopped over to a table nearby and began interacting with the children there.
"See?" I told Adirah "The kids like the Red Robin, he is so nice!"
Not convinced, Adirah screamed again, even louder with more fury. By the time the food came, I was convinced that the only way to get my baby girl (clearly afriad for her life) to be quiet again was to leave this place. Right away. Defeated, I asked the waitress for the food to be packed up "to go." I found the stroller and somehow got Adirah strapped in, I loaded the salad, burgers and fries in their to go boxes underneath the stroller and strapped the diaper bag and my purse over my shoulder and pushed the kids outside. Adirah wailed the whole time. We made it out of the restaurant, walked through the rain and over to the car where I loaded the kids into the van, strapped them in their car seats, and gave Asher his food to eat while we drove home. The salad I had ordered and packed to go was not in the box anymore, but instead the contents littered the bottom of the stroller.
Adirah quieted down, tears still streaming down her reddened face. She looked tired, but relieved. As we drove away, Adirah tunred her head toward the restaurant, smiled and waved her hand with glee."Bye-Bye Quack Quack," she said. And as we drove home, Adirah repeated "Bye-Bye Quack Quack" until I turned on some upbeat children's music and began to sing.
The current version of this traumatic experience happened at the end of Asher's (age 5) martial arts class, during open gym time. I have to hold Adirah (age 1.5) back during Asher's entire class so she doesn't disturb the older kids doing martial arts. But after class the younger kids are allowed to run around on the gym, pushing around obstacles, climbing and playing with the rope swing. Today the mat was full of about 20 boys ranging from ages 5 to 12 and I had to follow Adirah around like a mother bear, making sure she was not knocked over or hurt by these big boys. It was only when we decided to leave, and I paused to say goodbye to Asher's teacher that an 8 year old boy thought it would be fun to throw a ball at the teacher. Instead, it hit my face and made my head jerk back.
In a soap opera plot, this blow to the head may have caused me to lose my memory or even regain my memory after years of amnesia. In the movie version, maybe I would have switched places with my daughter, an adult brain running around in an 18 month old body while my daughter would now have the use of my taller body and my manual dexterity. We would switched places due to the ball hitting my face at the exact moment an historical clock nearby struck 5pm. But in this decidedly uninteresting real life scenario, I was a mother, and her two children, a 30 minute drive from home with a toddler and a kindergartener who were active, demanding and hungry.
I decided to drive to a nearby Red Robin Restaurant. We almost always eat at home and these meals are almost always cooked by me, so this was a special treat. The restaurant was packed and I began to question my decision to eat out when it was so close to the children's bedtimes. While we waited, we went into the bathroom for Asher to use the toilet, while I changed Adirah's diaper. I got everyone's hands washed and when we got back to the front of the restaurant, the hostess said she would seat us. Since the restaurant was full, she asked us to leave the stroller by a door near the balloons and video games. We didn't need the stroller, but I did need to get the diaper bag, snacks for Adirah, rice milk in a bottle, and toys to occupy the kids out of the bottom of the stroller. I tucked these items under one arm while the other arm was occupied holding my daughter on my hip.
Just then, THE RED ROBIN MASCOT walked out of the door next to the place we stored the stroller. The Red Robin Mascot looks like big, red, furry, prehistoric animal with a large yellow beak. If I didn't know the name of the restaurant I would not think it was a bird at all. It looked like a bigger version of Elmo without the helium infused voice and with a more pointed head. I think older kids are entertained by this mascot, and the younger children and babies were oblivious of it's presence. Before I knew what was happening, Adirah was screaming-sreaming so loud that everyone in the restaurant turned to look. She was screaming in that way that makes a parent look at their child and wonders: "How does someone so small make so much noise? Adirah does not cry very often. This was shocking. She clearly DID NOT LIKE this big red thing moving around the room and bobbing it's big red head with the pointed yellow thing at the end.
Frantically. I tried to get Adirah away from the Giant Robin. The hostess brought us to our table and I quickly ordered over the deafening screeches of my baby girl. The Robin moved to another part of the restaurant, and Adirah calmed down. I entertained both children with the crayons and paper supplied by the restaurant and the toys that I took out of the diaper bag. Tired, injured, and starved, I thought, "Okay, we just have to get through this dinner so I can get them fed and then home and to sleep so I can finally have a break." And then......THE MASCOT CAME BACK. The Giant Red Robin cheerfully hopped over to a table nearby and began interacting with the children there.
"See?" I told Adirah "The kids like the Red Robin, he is so nice!"
Not convinced, Adirah screamed again, even louder with more fury. By the time the food came, I was convinced that the only way to get my baby girl (clearly afriad for her life) to be quiet again was to leave this place. Right away. Defeated, I asked the waitress for the food to be packed up "to go." I found the stroller and somehow got Adirah strapped in, I loaded the salad, burgers and fries in their to go boxes underneath the stroller and strapped the diaper bag and my purse over my shoulder and pushed the kids outside. Adirah wailed the whole time. We made it out of the restaurant, walked through the rain and over to the car where I loaded the kids into the van, strapped them in their car seats, and gave Asher his food to eat while we drove home. The salad I had ordered and packed to go was not in the box anymore, but instead the contents littered the bottom of the stroller.
Adirah quieted down, tears still streaming down her reddened face. She looked tired, but relieved. As we drove away, Adirah tunred her head toward the restaurant, smiled and waved her hand with glee."Bye-Bye Quack Quack," she said. And as we drove home, Adirah repeated "Bye-Bye Quack Quack" until I turned on some upbeat children's music and began to sing.
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