restaurant

How mothers really feel in restaurants

Pre-baby, I loved eating out. In fact, it might even have been on the “extracurricular” part of my CV. As I’m sure you’ve seen on the blog, food and drink are big passion of mine.

Post-baby, my views on this are somewhat fragmented.

Dont let this smile decieve you

Catch us on a good day and we’re the typical instagrammable family (almost). We’re not covered in food thrown at us by a toddler, we’re relaxed, we order dessert, we have a conversation. We search for change to leave a tip.

Most of the time?

On arrival, we’re debating in our heads if this was even a good idea. Will it even be worth eating out? On entry into the restaurant we’re scanning for a table with enough room for the mountains of “stuff” we’re carrying on the tops and sides of a push chair. We’re praying that the service is quick, they bring the children’s menu straight away and follow immediately with our children’s order, so at least they’ll have food to amuse/distract them.
While ordering our own meal (probably chosen less because we want it and more because our child might reject meal one and want ours) we smile, even though we’ve been sneered at two times already by other non-parents because just us being there makes their experience less enjoyable.

Noone wants to listen to forks being banged on this trendy marble table, not even us. Inside the mind of an anonymous mother

Just, keep, smiling. And ,keep raisins on hand at all times.

We tag team the actual eating of a meal – one inhales their food while the other attends to child’s wishes – nappy change, puppetry, a walk outside – the list goes on. On either side there’s guilt:
Guilt when you are eating that the other is not, guilt when you’re not eating that you still can’t concentrate enough to hold an adult conversation.
The bill arrives and we apologise for the rush to get the card machine. The truth is, we don’t know what our child might do after being stuck that long in a high chair and we don’t want to suffer further embarrassment.
We exit, cheerily on the outside – on the inside we’re pleading you don’t roll your eyes as we leave the inevitable trail of mess behind us.

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