Tag Archives: mommy

The customer is always right?

15 Jul

“Waitress, waitress, my food’s cold and I need some more water. Oh yeah, you forgot to bring me another fork.”

This is what I heard in my dazed reverie as I leaned against the kitchen sink. But you can replace waitress with mom. I shrugged off the shroud of sleep deprivation that has become my constant cloak these days and dashed to the refrigerator to retrieve the requested item.

I held a lot of jobs during school—from retail to personal trainer to staff writer at the school newspaper. But for whatever reason, I was never a waitress. I always chalked it up to my own shortcomings in diplomacy or perhaps never the right opportunity. Though I occasionally thought I was missing out on some teen-aged rite of passage by eschewing the food industry.

And then, I had kids….

Being a mom has proven to be the ultimate exercise in patience, especially when it comes to preparing and serving food. It is never served fast enough, or a loud, rude three-year-old tells you that she “wants oatmeal, NOT cereal.” (She did say cereal the first go-round.) And your baby pounds the highchair tray with her sippy cup which is matched by the annoying shout-chant emitting from her pouty, pink lips. Meanwhile, mommy rushes around feverishly trying to accommodate everyone’s demands no matter how irrational. Even the dog crouches in the corner waiting with baited breath and pleading eyes begging you to slurp the last of the kid’s cereal into his bowl.

After you bust your buns to make everyone a happy customer, what do you get for your efforts…..perhaps a nice fat tip, or a “thanks for keeping me well-fed?” Not so much. Not only are you slaving for the world’s most unsatisfied customers, there is no financial payoff to make up for your seemingly futile dash from kitchen to dining room. And you think to yourself, ok, I willingly chose to bear these precious little gems.

So I have to imagine that waitressing, while often called a thankless job, has to be better, or certainly easier, than the lot I’ve chosen. At least those customers don’t throw food on the ground or at you and screech as the top of their lungs just because they can. I know that I have many mommy waitress days ahead of me, and now maybe I can add waitress to my resume.


Daddy Play dates

15 Jul


I seem to spend a lot of time setting up play dates for my three-year-old daughter. This weekend, I FINALLY realized I should be setting up “daddy” play dates for my husband.

Our weekend routine typically has me playing team coach, barking orders to my husband, consulting the playbook for where we’ll go for a family activity, or benching surly team members, as needed.

For my poor husband, my “honey-do” list is never-ending. “Honey, can you help me with yard work, honey, can you move this bookcase to the other side of the room, and honey, can you install the new ceiling light in the guest room,” and on and on. Like Sisyphus, who rolled the boulder up the hill, only to have it tumble back down, my list of to-dos is never exhausted, but my husband is—most certainly.

To the point, this past weekend, we were stuck at the house in nap hell, because our sweet little one-year-old is on a nap strike. We had to go on “baby lock down” until we can get her to realize that napping during the day is good for baby, and good for mommy and daddy too! However, our three-year-old can only be so entertained by us at home before she starts plotting how to catch the next train to toy town. So, I shuffle down my list of friends and neighbors who may be up for a very spontaneous play date at our house. We find a willing candidate and the wheels are set in motion. I sweeten the deal by telling the parents they can simply drop off their son and we’ll watch him and throw in lunch too as a bonus.

Said kid arrives with dad—they are neighbors on our street. Having nothing else too exciting planned on this day, the dad decides to stick around. Ok, great, but I’d planned to catch up on some housework and my hubby was going to finish a chore for me and then surf the Net for a bit. Not wanting to be inconsiderate, I decide to hover near the happily playing kids and make small talk with the dad, which is pleasant, but……time is money!

Next thing I know, our neighbor and my husband have finished the chore together and are making their way to the couch and TV to catch some of the World Cup. My husband offer s the dad a beer and now I see what is happening. My husband is about to begin a play date. Yeah! I start to make lunch for the kids and think why not keep going and make the guys a snack too. Quesadillas to go with their beers…bueno. They’re stoked.

Suddenly, I imagine that I hear soft, beautiful music and see doves flying over our deck. DING, I’m on to something. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? The kids are happy. The dads are happy. I say, “I’m going to go for a walk and grab some coffee, I’ll be back soon.” My husband nods OK without pulling his eyes from the soccer match.

When I come home an hour later, relaxed by the fresh air and properly re-charged by the caffeine, the neighbors have left, but my daughter and husband remain exhilarated from their respective dates. I sigh contentedly and start to daydream about lining up future daddy play dates.