​There are many articles and posts about new Mommys and Daddys hiting the ground running as they try to figure out this parenting stuff. And while I too have stressed, caved, made mistakes, and just basked in those priceless precious moments, I have realized that every person who says to the screaming pouting baby "Life must be so rough" in a patronizing sarcastic tone really hasn't stopped to think about how goddamned frustrating life really is for someone in their first year.

Now, for argument's sake, I'm going to set aside the fact that my own baby remained hospitalized for 3 months and experienced his own newborn world of Hell and pain. Just looking at those developmental milestones that all children go through is enough.

EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT!

Think about it! 

You begin sense of awareness someplace that's warm, comfy, and usually pretty predictable. Then you are violently vacated, no longer comfy, brought out into the cold, forced into the open air trying to get your never-before-used airways clear of fluid that wasn't choking you before this very moment. Things are loud. Things are bright. You have no idea what's going on, no one can explain it to you, and you have zero control over anything including your own body. Have an itch? Too freaking bad! You can't even coordinate these limbs that you're pretty sure follow you around, and may even be attached to you, but damn if they do what you'd actually like them to - most of the time they just jerk about, sometimes enough to bat something away or be within mouth chomping range, but really it's pretty hit and miss. 

At this point I've figured a lot out. I know who comforts me. I know what I like to play with or chew on. I have routines that make me happy and comfortable. But my ability to just lay on my back and feel content is waning. 

I know I'm a person now. I know I should be able to get to where I want to go like I see literally EVERYONE ELSE doing. My legs want to move. My arms are falling into place to catch myself. I KNOW I CAN DO THIS! 

*EPIC FAIL*

Whether it was crawling, walking, or trying to get the goddamn spoon in my mouth like I know it's SUPPOSE TO, it just doesn't work out - EVER! It's frustrating, embarassing, and 95% it's pretty damn scary, not to mention that my beautiful headshape is now starting to feel like a wrecking ball made of playdough. 

Honestly, if an adult failed THAT much at what clearly seems to be a universal ability, human interaction outside of one's household would cease entirely.

Just when you think that things are all fine and dandy - sure, you're bashing your head a few times a week and falling on your butt every day, but it's getting more predictable and less scary - something inside of your skull has decided that you should never be happy ever again. Forget accidentally bashing your head in, now you pretty much want to because serrated knives are slowly grinding up and down your gumline. Some babies are lucky. Some babies get a few days of pain and then a few sets of teeth to start inflicting pain upon others. But we few, we lucky few who get to experience months upon months of what seems like ceaseless teething, well, life sucks.

What's more facinating about this is how they try to find something positive between the ebbs and flows of teething. Like, "for this one minute, I don't want to rip my jaw out, so I'm going to play peek-a-boo like a champ!"

And eating? I didn't think it was possible for someone with no teeth to eat pretty much all of the same foods that I do. 

I'm starting to question the evolutional purpose of teeth in our modern age. For how much I spend on making sure that my teeth aren't rotting out of my head, and then, even despite all of the intensive daily care given to my teeth, they still stir up a violent mutiny that costs even more to appease. And really, you have to attend to your teeth, because not only is it bloody painful to have unhappy teeth, but the sneaky little buggers can actually kill you faster with an infection you don't know you have than one of those major flu-ish outbreaks that you trample over people to get vaccinated from. 

Seriously Kid, if I could suppress your teething and save you from a life of unecessary pain, I totally would. 

I know what words are. I hear you use them and I know what you're saying. But do you have any idea how much coordination goes into uttering syllables? It requires conscious effort to create that fluidity between mouth and tongue, to control your air intake and outtake at just the right time. It's not my fault that my utterance for "ball" "bottle" "dog" and "Dad" are all the same! That shit's hard! On top of that, I'm doing my freaking best to communicate in a way that doesn't involve screaming at the top of my lungs, thereby saving us both the agony of you pacing around, pulling your hair out, screaming back "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?!", and yet, despite my best efforts, you STILL haven't figured out what I want! I'm saying it. Lord knows I'm saying it as best as I know how! And what do I get for my efforts? Back to square one of me screaming out in frustration and you pacing around, pulling your hair out, screaming back "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?!" Only this time, because I'm a little bit older, my demands will be dismissed as "Just being fussy", and I'll probably be plopped into my crib, forced to have "Quiet time," and all because I just wanted to share with you that I know where the dog is. It may not seem important to you, but two weeks ago I wasn't able to share this news with you - it's important to ME!

You couldn't pay me to re-experience the life of a baby. Yes, there are some adorable moments of discovery, but it's really a lot of hardship that they just deal with because they really haven't any choice at all in the matter. As frustrated as I may get sometimes being the Mommy, it doesn't compare to the hurdles that my little guy faces every single day. 

In my opinion, there's only one thing I truly envy about my son.

​When I'm a little old lady, please pop me into one of these. I don't want to go quietly in my bed. I want to go quietly in this comfy cozy swing!

Despite the rants that I frequently post on my blog, I don't actually complain all that much. Especially in the moment in front of those who I am ranting about. 

When it's a restaurant, I don't send food back, I don't skimp on tips. I wait patiently even if it takes an hour for the food to arrive, I eat half-frozen sauce, heck, my husband and I ate a plate of slop that we aren't even sure was food because we didn't want the server/cook to feel bad... 

But yesterday was by far the worst retaurant experience I have ever had. My frustration was so great that I burst out into tears right there in our booth. Why? Because it wasn't me that had to suffer through a crappy meal, it was my kid who wasn't being fed. 

Here's what happened:

While adding to our Christmas shopping, my family and I decide to stop at one of the mall restaurants for dinner. It doesn't look busy, there are lots of open seats, and we are seated right away. Our server comes quickly, takes our drink order - since they didn't give us a kids' menu and there wasn't one in the regular menu, I ask the server if he can grab us one so that we can order for my son. He may be a year old, but he can eat just about anything, the only issue is that he doesn't have any teeth so it's easier for us to order off of the kids' menu because the food tends to be simple and easy to break apart.
The server says, "Sure thing." And then adds, "but since I'm here, do you want me to take your order? I won't ring it up until you order for the little guy."

Why not? So we place our order and off he goes to get us drinks and a kids' menu...

... or so we thought. I mean, it's a reasonable assumption, isn't it? Thankfully I bring treats with us to keep the little one happy.

He goes around to a few tables, taking orders. Which is fine. They were all side-by-side. Makes sense.

10 minutes go by. He comes back with a tray of drinks for at least three tables. We get our drinks, and it's pretty clear that that's all he has with him. So I ask, "Were you able to find a kids's menu?" I've been in places that don't get too much kid traffic and so they have to share about 5 kid menus for the whole restaurant, I'm not offended if he can't find one, but I'm ready to ask him what we could get started for my son -

but he quickly chimes in that he's working at "quadruple shift" and that he's "doing the best he can." Fair enough. No one likes a stressful day at work. 

Except that the place still isn't full. There are other servers in and out of the kitchen. And there are two hosts up front not doing much of anything. 

In hindsight, we probably should have just gone to the front ourselves to get a menu, but a) the server didn't mention that getting the menu would be such a hassle, and b) they have a whole freaking bunch up front that he just has to get, or ask someone else to grab for him.

So we have to wait for him to come back with the menu. Which he does... eventually. Long enough that I'm already getting pretty peeved and even my husband is asking me if I just want to walk out. A couple minutes after that exchange, the server comes back with a kids menu. And off he goes again. 

We wait for him to come back so we can order for my son. Done. Mini burgers. Easy. Bun, patty, slice of cheese. That's it.

So he leaves. A minute later my husband and me's food arrives. 

"Can I get you anything else?" asked random helper server (who probably could have brought us the menu if our server was so busy).

"No, we're just waiting for my son's food."

Off he goes and our server checked up on us right away. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, we're just waiting for my son's food."

"It'll be out soon," he promises.

So we wait.

We stare at our food eating the fries because the little one can eat those too.

We wait. We nibble.

Server checks in, "I saw it, it's on it's way."

I tell my husband to just eat his food. He'll be finished in no time and then he can hold the baby while I eat. It'll actually work out better this way.

So he eats. We nibble. I start breaking apart my burger so that the little one can have more than just fries.

"It's on it's way."

My husband has cleaned his plate. The server removes his plate. "It's on it's way."

I break up more of my burger and pass the little one to his daddy so that I can actually take a full bite of mine. 

This continues. I break up pieces of burger for every bite that I take and place it in front of my son. 

I never expected him to eat both mini burgers. But at this point he has already eaten the equivanlent of one mini burger plus a fair share of fries.

Now my plate is clean too.

Server takes away our plate. Still no meal. My son is done. He's curled up now, having a bottle. 

If we thought a kids' meal would be this much of an issue, we wouldn't have bothered ordering it. It's not like he's going to eat it now.

"I saw it, it's coming."

"Just put it in a box," I say. "We're done."

Do you know what we didn't have to wait for? The bill. Full charge for everything. All three meals, all drinks. Satisfaction survey code on the bottom.

He comes back with a boxed meal and asks us if we need the machine.

That's my tipping point.

I don't look for free handouts, but some acknowledgement on their part would have been nice. Instead of blatantly lying to us about his food coming. Could you imagine if we had believed him enough to start eating our meals and left nothing for our son? And if the tables you have to serve are too much to handle, then it's up to the entire staff to close off sections and limit their patrons. 

But no, here's the bill. 

"I'm a little upset that my son didn't get his food until we got bill," I say, trying to keep myself together.

Server doesn't even blink, "Okay, I'll get the manager" and off he goes like water off a duck. 

We had seen the manager go to other tables while we had been there. I don't know what over, but those tables also had children. Coincidence?

I don't know if the issue is in the kitchen. With the server not putting in the order. Or with the computer just not processing kid's meals that day. But EVERYONE in the food industry knows that you don't make kids wait for their meals. You want to ensure that EVERYONE has a bad day? Make a kid wait. 

By the time the manager came out, I was so frustrated that I just started crying. This wasn't an extra 10 minute wait. This was my child not being served at all! And that's not right.

She apologized, and she comp'ed the whole meal. 

Again, I wasn't searching for handouts, I don't do that. But I did have a problem with paying for a meal that we didn't receive. I offered to pay for the two meals that we did eat, but the manager took the bill from us and said, "No. You should not have to suffer because of our issues." She apologiesed again.

I did leave some money on the table. Someone did make our meals, and while I know that the money probably won't go to the people who actually deserve it, (I didn't even leave 10%), I just don't have the heart to leave nothing, though I'm sure I had every right to. If nothing else, my son is very good at leaving a mess behind him. 

Well, I'm still very upset about the whole thing. We may or may not actually go back there, at least not until I've distanced myself from the experience. 

I was going to write about it last night, right after it happened, but I just wanted to not feel like I was going to burst into tears at any moment all night.

Having slept on it, I have decided to not name the establishment, or even tag them as I really wanted to yesterday. That being said, I'm not going to lie about it, so if you really want to know which yyc/area restaurant we went to, I'll tell you. In fact, I've already had people ask as I've been ranting about it.

I don't intent to punish the franchise or the people who work for them, and I've eaten there several times before and had fine experiences. Then again, this is the first time the little one's ordered his own meal there. 

Let's face it, December is busy for everyone. In my house, we add two birthdays into the mix as well. And this year is a pretty big one. 1st for the little one and 30th for his daddy. So I have no choice but to make it big. For my husband, I planned for months. While NaNoWriMo was running, I was making calls, finalizing numbers, paying deposits. And for what? FOR THE MOST EPIC DAY OF MY HUSBAND'S LIFE!

I won't be modest about this. I am an awesome wife who puts together the best surprises. Theme: superheroes. I sent him on three surprise missions of increasing thrill levels. My husband not only got to round around the city hanging out with his friends, but he got to try out some things he probably wouldn't have signed up for on his own. He got an intro lesson in scuba diving, and hopped aboard an Olympic bobsled for 3 G's of Cool Running's track. 

​No, the little one won't be getting any Olympic level sports in for his birthday, but eating a whole cupcake by himself will make him equally happy. 

But the best part of this year?

Christmas at home!

Even though my little one was born before Christmas, if you remember, he didn't come home until March, which is when we were finally able to have our first Christmas with him. 

This year we're doing Christmas right. It. Will. Be. Magical! Because after a year filled with up's and down's, I think our whole family deserves it. 

Who knows, maybe we'll even see some two front teeth and first steps this Christmas.