Day 9 of 365
This weekend flew.
Bart and I both went to the chiropractor on Saturday. I am only going once a month to keep my migraines at bay and Bart is trying to get himself feeling better after tripping over the baby gate. I still say it's because of soccer.
Then we went to New Hope, PA. It was a trip both of us were really looking forward to for the last few weeks. It was pretty disappointing. A few of the stores we always enjoy going to seemed to be gone, some downsized. One thing that seemed to be alive and well was the restaurant scene, more than enough to go around. Rather than eating at one of the overpriced, outdoor quaint places we decided to drive back to Jersey and go to a chain restaurant. Mainly because I personally didn't feel like being outside since I never cooled down from being in The Christmas Shoppe. Kudos to me, I managed to walk out of there without a nativity scene that would have taken up our whole credenza or the Father Christmas from Poland that was gorgeous.
Armed with a flurry of gift cards we were going to go to either Olive Garden or TGI Fridays. We haven't been to Olive Garden in years so we opted to go there. We sat down, ordered food, berry Sangria at my fingertips and a warm breadstick in hand. And then on my way back from the bathroom it all went down hill. Nina was off the charts. Nothing would make her happy. A couple of dirty looks from the large group across from us celebrating a communion made me cringe. Our nice lunch out wasn't going to happen. I downed my Sangria, scooped up the Bub, grabbed the diaper bag and told Bart to get it to go and make sure to get the salad and breadsticks too.
Sigh. I guess this is parenthood.
My shining moment was telling Bart that the Bub was a bratty whore. Yea. I'm sure he was thrilled with both of us having temper tantrums.
The kicker was that as soon as I put Nina in her carseat she was happy as could be. I was not amused. And my takeout Olive Garden was not nearly as good as it would have been if I got to eat it AT OLIVE GARDEN. And you know what, the croutons in the salad were soggy by the time we got home.
Sunday was better but my darling 15 month old is still not quite herself.
Monday, I really don't want you to come but I don't think I have a choice.