Our Holiday went really well…sort of. We went to the cold ocean, we swam (in the pool silly), I didn’t have to scream “Are you vaccinated” because we were only a part of the handful of people that thought it would be great to holiday with a pending snowstorm. We did some shopping, ate at Ruby Tuesdays (which normally is amazing, but let me tell you how it went) Keep in mind, we are fast eaters, we don’t sit around in restaurants for hours at a time. We eat, when they ask how our meal is, we ask for the check, pay, finish eating and leave. It’s just our way.
Our waiter, Magic Jim shows up 10 minutes after we are sat, takes our orders, poofs. Comes back and throws our drinks at the table, poofs. Our food is delivered by someone else, and my burger is rare, I mean, it’s still mooing and crying for its barn mates, rare. No waiter! We get someone to get someone to get the waiter, he takes my burger. Little Miss and my s/o are done eating so they throw their napkins on their plates and go to the bathroom. My burger comes back and a short convo ensued: Magic Jim “I am going to leave their plates here” Me: Why, they are done. MJ: I will just leave them Me: Or you could take them, they are done. MJ: exit stage left with plates.
The burger is meh, no one came to ask us how the food was or if my burger was okay. Magic Jim drops off check while I am eating. He comes back 3 times asking for the check while I am still eating. Me on trip 3: This is the most time you have spent at this table since we sat down, the money is here, you can have it when we leave, now please let me eat. Trip #4 from MJ: Are you done eating? Me (with my mouth full of burger and my coke in hand): DOES IT LOOK LIKE IM DONE EATING?! BUG OFF!
Enter Manager (1/2 of MJ’s age) stage right: Is everything okay here? (instant gratifaction at him not calling me ma’am) Me: Can I genuinely ask you something? Mngr: Yes Me: Does it appear that I am eating my food? Mngr: yes, of course Me: Well MJ only cares about the money on this table. That is the only time we have seen him. This ketchup (at which I pick up and wave around), came from these lovely people sitting here <——–. He’s tried to take my food right out of my mouth but doesn’t want to pre-bus food which is clearly not being eaten. Tell me where does he think he’s going with this money, surely his shift isn’t over? Mngr: I am so sorry, the burger is on me, let me handle your payment.
During all these exchanges our nearby tablemates and ourselves would exchange that knowing look. They were all given the same treatment. I used to bartend and waitress, so I KNOW what it is like to be “in the weeds” (buried and busy). This, he was not. He just was really bad at what he did, and really, it was bizarro world. You cannot make this up!
Saturday morning, Little Miss got woken up early, and when she wakes up early, its utter chaos throughout the day. Kids NEED their sleep. But despite the overwhelming feeling that I should just ping her on the head with my pointer finger for the 10th rude comment made that day, we forged on. (Mind you, I am not a passive parent, I don’t believe in spanking and I don’t have an ill behaved child, I had an over tired tween, who was punished, not in the form of a ping to the head with my finger as I sooo wanted to do, but she had to write when we got home. I am telling you, this is VERY effective, it sticks in her brain and on the occasions she has had to write, there are few to none re-occurances of the actions that make her write).
Sunday morning she got woken up CRAZY early. There was a snowstorm on the ocean and we were in the thick of it, so we had to get away from the coast and quick. What normally is a 2 hour ride home took almost 4 hours, but we forged through it and made it home safe. When I pulled up to my driveway at 11:30 it wasn’t plowed. Get out, shovel the end of the driveway, and throw my little Honda in reverse doing a Hail Mary into the driveway. As we are unpacking, the neighbor is out clearing off his truck and the plow guy comes. Lightbulb!! They call our plow guy when THEY are ready to clear off their truck and screw the rest of us over. Nevermind the plow guy is paid for by the landlord, because when you live here for 28 years, as they do, you just assume you own the place and have complete run over your situation with little regard to others. Unpacked, settled, Little Miss got to writing and the day at home continued.
Monday morning, its still storming and school isn’t cancelled. Every town around us is cancelled. I call Little Miss in because 1. I am not sending her out in a new fresh 6 inches of snow that came on top of the previous 6-8 inches and 2. Little Miss needs some time to recoop. We prepped up some homeschool (because the superintendent that is STILL sitting on that one little piece of homeschool paperwork that has nothing to do with him, didn’t call a snow day ) and Little Miss is back on track. Before I sigh contentedly that my little puka is indeed over her tween-demon moment, I look to the driveway, my car is beyond snowed in. No, I didn’t make it out to move my car Sunday, I just drove 4 hours home to get that car in place and now you want me to run back out mid unpack to move it because you waited for the “Plow Call?” So getting it out of being snowed in was not an easy task to say the least, and I made sure to tell plow guy just what I thought of his little arrangement, though nicely, because it’s really hard for me to be a bitch. Sometimes I snap and it just happens. This was not snapworthy, just a MAJOR inconvienance that I handled with a quick chat.
This was a holiday weekend for an early birthday gift for Little Miss. It had its moments for sure. But it had its memories. Collecting shells while freezing our asses off, going to visit the poor puppies at the pet store, secretly plotting to set them all free, some shopping for some vinyl (yes, she is her mothers girl and loves vinyl), some (mostly) good eats, a movie, and so much more. Tomorrow is her official birthday. She will be 11. So, even though our weekend had its ups and downs, as life does, she will always be perfect in my eyes, even if she does warrant a light ping to the head. So for Little Energy and every mother out there: