Maybe the lesson here is that we just shouldn't go out to eat

Once upon a time, like on Sunday, my little family celebrated the gift of motherhood by giving me the day off. And you guys, I don't care what the jewelers try to tell you, THAT is what mothers really want.

Not having to deal with anyone? Priceless.

Me and my girls and some random lady.

Since we're still trying to use up the gift certificates I won in that May Basket drawing last year, Eric and the girls took me to a restaurant for dinner. It's one of the nicer ones in town, and as we were seated, Eric and I joked that at least we wouldn't be forgotten this time.

Ha ha ha! We're so funny!

So our waiter this time wasn't a hipster guy; in fact, he looked like he was in his later 20s to early 30s, which gave us great hope at his responsibleness. He was a little late taking our order... and he forgot the sugar for Abby's ice tea for like 20 minutes, but hey, he apologized, and to be fair, Abby didn't miss the sugar anyway.

Maybe because we had the kids there to distract us (we need to take them out more because wow, we're lacking some special social skills), but we failed to notice that an hour had slipped by without getting served.

And once we did notice, it was hard not to stare at the people who came in after us who got their food before we did. Um, those fish and chips they were munching on? Yeah, mine and Jo's.

Hey, tangent, once I read that being forgotten is the worst human fear out there. I think that's probably true. Once you think you've been forgotten, you just sit there and stew. Do I speak up? Do I sit here and just be patient?

Have I really been forgotten? Am I not good enough to be noticed? Is there something wrong with me? What is wrong with me?!

(Why, yes, I do have issues! Why do you ask?)

So finally, Eric and Abby get their meals, and the waiter assures Johanna and me that ours are coming right up. I gave them permission to dig in, but they refused; as the minutes dragged on, I finally told them to just hurry up and eat already because by the time we got served, their meals would be cold.

And hey, it was only 10 more minutes. I guess we should have taken waiter guy up on the extra bread basket after all.

The moral of this story is that it took us two hours to eat, but unlike our Elks lunch fiasco, this time no one seemed to mind that it took forever. Eric was like, at least we were all together! It was family time! (He's very relaxed when he's not trying to get back to work.) And the food was pretty good. And the girls were happy. And we were all dressed up and looking pretty hot. And we were all together.

(Johanna's observation: "They were late getting us our food, but they were quick getting us the check!")

Well, anyway, we're 0-2 now, in case anyone is keeping track. Eric and I are thinking that maybe these waiters can just tell we have gift certificates and aren't real people, or maybe we just look exceptionally kind and not prone to pitching fits over food. (Well, Eric does, anyway. Pitching fits over food -- or, more accurately, the lack thereof -- is actually something I would do. Have done. Will probably do again in the near future.)

But hey, all this is not to say that Mother's Day was a wash because of a late meal. It wasn't. It really was the perfect day. I got to sleep in,* do morning yoga on the lawn, read and read and read, not clean the house, take a nap, go out to eat, visit with my favorite in-laws, and get homemade cards from the girls.

See? That's pretty damn perfect.

Thank you, family.

Well, thanks Abby!
(P.S. She did this freehand...)

*Johanna brought me breakfast in bed: An omelette and a cup of coffee. Since she notices everything, she knew exactly how to brew a cup in my fancy coffee cone. Anyway, she came to snuggle, and told me that when I'm "too old to chew junk," she'll make me scrambled eggs instead.

Thank you, kid. That's love right there.