Sunday, November 05, 2006

If you give a pig a pancake

There is this trashy diner in our neighborhood called the Pig 'N Pancake where many locals go for Sunday breakfast. I am pretty sure it is a chain, but this place is pretty funny. There are flying pigs on the walls, colorful glass piggy banks on any surface that is nailed down and every waitress there will call you "hon" in a gravely voice and looks like she is 65 going on dead. You know the type - these ladies have so much experience they can tell what you are going to order before you even see the menu, and never let anyone sit with an empty coffee cup.

So this morning, when I got up I told Ben that Margot and I were going out for a few hours. We both got dressed and headed out for the Pig 'N Pancake. We ordered Pancakes (of course!) and made quite the mess with lots of maple syrup. Many old ladies stopped by the table and commented on Margot and how good she was. She smiled and gave her princess wave, saying hi to everyone. It got me thinking about how I have been lulled into a comfort zone with Margot that may soon be shattered. She has been starting to throw tantrums at home when she doesn't get her way. It usually consists of kicking and screaming, some fake crying and a pissed off Mama. These lovely tantrums are bound to make it out in public sooner or later, and I am not sure how well I will handle it. From the day Margot was born, I have always been somewhat apprehensive about taking her out to eat. As someone who was childless for a long time, I HATED when I was at a restaurant and some snarky kid was screaming at their parents and throwing a fit because their cracker was too salty. It makes me nervous that I am now maybe going to be that parent, sheepishly looking away from other patrons glances as my kid is throwing her glass at some other table.

I guess I just have to hope that we are raising Margot the right way, and hope that she continues focusing on the pancakes instead of acting like a pig.

1 comment:

auntekalurah said...

Hey just wait until she decides that it's fun to throw a butter knife across the restaurant at a table of fellow diners. Now THAT"S fun!
Just remember, as a mother, whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger(and wiser).And as far as the evil glares that are your impending doom, I always just cast a big, fat, dumb, happy smile that person's way, and eventually they either lighten up or just assume I am completely insane.
Either way, it seems to make ME feel better, and when mommy isn't feeling stressed, neither is baby. And that's ALL that matters.