Banished

My kids love Subway. I mean luuuuuurve it. Lincoln will eat there any day of the week, and Aubrey has been known to pound down an entire foot long. My little Aubrey. Twelve inches of sandwich. True story.

Well, after today's lunchtime fiasco, I'm afraid we may not be part of the 'Footlong Nation Appreciation.' I don't think we'll be stepping foot in a Subway restaurant anytime soon.

Where do I even begin?

Aubrey had an orthodontist appointment. Yes, she just barely turned 8; and yes, I'm already paying an orthodontist. She has an appliance in her mouth to help her kick her thumb-sucking habit.

Am I a mean mom? Perhaps, but I wish I would have been mean much earlier. Mean would have been to yank her wee baby thumb out of her mouth 8 years ago, and I should have done just that. Alas, the damage is done and we're simply trying to prevent more damage. {I'm talking 'open bite' people, and it isn't pretty.}

Because her appointment was during lunch time, we had to eat together before I took her back to school. Lincoln wanted Subway, as always, but Aubrey has a hard time with sandwiches right now due to her lovely mouth appliance. Since I try to be an accommodating mother (and mostly since she is already losing weight due to this contraption), I bought her chicken teriyaki (another beloved dish) to bring in to Subway.

Before entering the restaurant, I realized Jace had a poopy diaper. There is no changing table in Subway, so I opted to change him in the car. As if I wasn't inconvenienced enough standing in the rain changing my son by the side of my minivan, I also couldn't find an outside garbage can. I wasn't going to leave that stinky diaper in my car, so the next best place was the bathroom garbage inside Subway.

So in we went. Aubrey was carting her own 'outside' food, and I was scurrying to the back to throw away a nasty diaper. As soon as we were in, Lincoln started coughing. You should know that he can't just cough like a normal person. He tries to clear the phlegm as he coughs, and the only way he knows how to do it is by gagging himself. It sounds awful.

Cough. Gag. Cough louder. Gag more. It's horrid. But it just sounds bad. He's really only clearing his throat.

Until today.

I came back from the restroom (what? all of 5 seconds later?), and Aubrey blurted out, "Mom!! Lincoln threw up!!" (With extra 8-year-old dramatic emphasis on the threw up.)

WHAT?!?

Sure enough, there he was. His big, blue, deer-in-the-headlights eyes (he couldn't believe it, either) staring at me, sticky phlegm all over his coat sleeve, and a puddle on the floor. And of course all eyes were on us since the only available table was at the exact center of the restaurant, where Aubrey had already opened up her styrofoam take-out container and was digging in to her chicken and rice.

I politely asked for napkins, carefully removed his nasty coat, and wiped up the mess as best I could--all the while doting on him like a loving mother and making sure he was okay since everyone was still watching me. (Of course I knew he was fine, I just had to act concerned.)

Okay. Time to order food for the rest of us. I brought our own chips and drinks because I'm cheap. And because my kids NEVER finish the huge restaurant portion, and insist on each having their own.

But Jace doesn't want the lunch box portion Doritos I pull out of my purse. He wants the 'Big Grab' bag, which is so easily within his reach. I think I interrupted my sandwich order three different times to corral him away from the chips, put chips back where they belonged, and show him the chips--the VERY SAME CHIPS--I brought.

By the time I sat down, Jace was ready for a full-blown 2-year-old tantrum. He didn't want the chips, so he threw them on the floor. And he most certainly didn't want the juice box I brought, he wanted my diet Coke. For the next 7 minutes, I tried to appease him so the rest of us could eat in peace. He ultimately decided to drink his juice box, but threw chips on the floor despite my best efforts to keep them away from him.

When we were ready to leave, Aubrey asked if she could buy some cookies. I normally say no, but this girl really does need to pack on the calories, so I handed her some money.

While she was ordering, Jace got down and started stomping on the chips he had earlier thrown on the floor. I jumped up to stop him, and accidentally knocked Aubrey's root beer can on the ground. Like I said, my kids never finish their drinks, so this was a nearly-full can of contraband root beer, and it was fizzing and flowing all over the busted up chips that Jace had crushed.

About this time, I caught the look of horror on the manager's face when he glanced our way. I wish I could tell him how sorry I was.

I grabbed a high chair to sit Jace in while I tried to clean up the floor, and he threw a fit--of course.

Of course Subway doesn't just have napkins out for you to grab, and of course now there is a huge rush and several people in line so I can't ask for napkins, and of course Jace is screaming at me straddling the high chair ready to plunge off of it head first, because OF COURSE the strap is broken on the blasted high chair. Of course.

I used what few napkins I had from our lunch, tried to clean up graciously, then reminded myself that I was, afterall, a paying customer (if you don't count Aubrey's lunch and the kids' chips and drinks since I brought that all in myself) and not entirely obligated to clean up.

At that point, the best thing I could do was leave. Grab my kids, their uneaten food, and get out of there.

Poor Subway. If the manager banishes us, I totally don't blame him.

It's Great to be Eight

Saturday is the big day. Should I tell her to hurry and misbehave before it's too late?