Tents, Rainstorms, and Dance Parties

There is a 6'x5' dinosaur tent in the middle of our living room that has been there for 3 straight weeks. To make room for the tent, our coffee table is pushed haphazardly against one wall and you have to shimmy sideways between the tent and the TV stand to get through the living room to the kitchen. All because one day Skeeter looked at me with excitement in his eyes and said, "We should build a tent in here and camp out!" I responded with, "Uhhh...no. You can't build a tent in the living room." Everyone knows responsible adults don't do things like that. I started to walk away and then an epiphany hit me like a freight train.

WHAT responsible adults? Whose rule is this!? As the house payment maker, bill payer, cooker, cleaner, and otherwise designated "responsible adult" of this household, who says we can't build a tent inside? So we did.

After my, "I'm the adult here and I can do what I want!" epiphany, we've done a lot of silly, crazy, downright childish things. And it has been AWESOME. 

First, we put both our sleeping bags and every single pillow we own inside the tent. And then we slept in the tent for 3 straight nights in a row...just 'cuz we could. We even moved our alarm clock with nature sounds to the living room so we really felt like we were camping out. 

A few days later Skeeter and I were hurrying to the trash can to try to take the trash out before the impending storm hit when the bottom fell out. We went from dry to SOAKED in a matter of seconds. 

We stood there shocked for a few seconds and then we started running up and down the street dancing like absolute fools. Why? Because we could. That's why. 

Sure, our neighbors think we are weirdos, but we don't care. We danced and played in the rain for a good half hour before we wrapped up our adventure by jumping in the pool fully clothed. BOOM. Take that adulthood!

Our almost daily un-adult ritual is having dance parties. Dance parties happen randomly at our house whenever a good song comes on and they feature all of our absolute worst dance moves. No good dancing allowed! Featured moves include: 

"The Carlton"

"The Napoleon"

Ottis's version of "The Chicken Dance"

And general foolishness...

Anytime life is starting to get you down, come on over and practice being a kid with us. After all, the best part of being a grown up is having the right to act like a kid sometimes!

Not Pei Wei People

"PEE WEE! You brought us to PEE WEE!?" Mom and I stared at Pei Wei in horror as my dad pulled into the closest available spot and parked. "It's Pei Wei, and yes, I told you girls I'd take you to lunch." Declared my dad proudly. Mom and I glanced anxiously at Charlie and Ella sitting in the backseat. "Sure dad, this will be great. Pei Wei is totally kid friendly." 

It was the middle of lunchtime rush and the place was packed. The moment we walked in the door Charlie started actin' a fool. Naturally the line was 30 people deep and 29 of the 30 turned around to stare at us (the other person was on the phone and merely gave us an annoyed glance). As the line progressed Charlie's behavior descended from loud yelling to uncontrolled wailing. 

It seemed like an eternity as the line inched forward like a herd of turtles marching through peanut butter. FINALLY we ordered and were seated. I shamefully had to ask the seating hostess for not one, but TWO highchairs, which she then had to drag across the entire restaurant. 

Finally, the five of us were wedged happily into a corner table. That's when I noticed we were seated next to my former youth pastor and his wife and daughter! They were their celebrating their daughter's 17th birthday. We took a moment to catch up (it's been a looooong time since I was in youth group) and then sat back down to eat. Charlie quietly munched on a piece of chicken while I fed Ella a bite of baby food. And for about 47 seconds it seemed like all was right with the world.

"The Incident" happened just as I took my first bite of sweet and sour chicken. What I can only describe as a TIDAL WAVE of vomit came blowing out of Ella's mouth. A sea of partially digested milk and baby food rolled down her chest, over the edge of her high chair, down her legs, and splattered onto the floor below. I have literally never seen a baby vomit so much liquid. Linda Blair would have been proud.

As soon as the last gallon of vomit rolled out Ella began shrieking uncontrollably as (once again) everyone turned to stare at us...only this time our screamfest was accompanied by the rapidly spreading and unmistakable smell of puke. Other diners were like: 

Mom looked at me horrified and said, "THE SMELL!"

If you've ever eaten at a Pei Wei, you know that the tables are packed in extremely tightly. So our puke smell is your puke smell. 

I snatched Ella (still screaming) out of her highchair as I took the fork away from Charlie so he wouldn't accidentally give himself a tonsillectomy while no one was looking. I dragged the puke covered princess to the bathroom as mom ran to find the seating hostess and begged her for towels, cleaner, bleach, Lysol spray... a new identity and a ticket to a foreign country where no one would recognize her as the inappropriate granny who dragged an infant to Pei Wei, etc.

Finally, mom met me in the bathroom to calm the stinky (and now hungry again) Ella. Mom volunteered to take Ella straight to the car and departed out the side door at an impressibly swift pace. I walked back to the table trying to look apologetic while also avoiding eye contact. 

I slinked into my seat expecting dad and Charlie to be mortified and instead they were just chillin', eating their lunches like Pukefest 2015 had not just occurred at our table. Dad started talking politics while Charlie snatched food from mom's (now abandoned) plate. 

Since the "Pee Wee Incident," we now have a list of questions we answer before deciding to eat at any restaurant with the babies: 

1. Are the highchairs already sticky?

2. Is there a play place?

3. Does the hygiene of the person taking your order look questionable?

4. Will someone be asking "Do you want fries with that?"

5. Do you need to wipe down the table both before and after you eat? 

If the answer to any of these questions is "No" we shouldn't be eating there. We are Burger King people. We are NOT Pei Wei people.