Restraint....and I'm not talkin' seatbelts or girdles

A Friday night out in public with the family.

Nothing like three wild kids who have forgotten all their manners, one mad dad who just grounded all three wild kids from television and computer for the entire day tomorrow for forgetting all their manners, and one sleepy mom who can’t believe the dad just grounded the children….because that means her Saturday just became much less peaceful.

Way to go, Dad.

Moving on.

I have declared a theme for my evening out with these people that I’m forced to love and live with. Because every good party needs a theme. I declared mine...

RESTRAINT.


Exhibit A:
We first stopped at Olive Garden to grab something munch-worthy. Also to use up the gift cards that I’ve been carrying around in my purse since Christmas (thanks, Mich!). Let me tell you a little something about Olive Garden. I heart it. That’s it. No ifs, ands , or buts…..just pure simple love. I remained faithful to the OG even when all those terrible stories were floating around of the something awful that the someone awful was doing to the sauces in the kitchen. Because I’m loyal like that. And because I’m so attracted to their breadsticks and salad that I include them in most all of my dreams. (Dreaming about Edward and my vampire friends….we’re eating breadsticks. Dreaming of beaches and sunshine….breadsticks are within reach. Nightmaring about being chased by evil clowns…..well…no breadsticks in that one because it would be weird.) Back to Exhibit A. I scarfed down a delightfully flavored drink, 3.4 breadsticks, and a bowl of salad with a double portion of those slurpaliscious black olives. And all of that before I received my hugenormous plate of 5 Cheese Ziti.

Y’all….I didn’t eat it all. I so left out of there with a doggie bag…which NEVER happens at the OG. Because every single time…I kid you not….I force myself to eat every.last.saliva.inducing.bite. Until tonight. Restraint.

Exhibit B:
While at the Sweet Mother of Everything That Is Pure and Alfredo-y, the husband presented me with the question I’ve been waiting all week for. “What do you want for Mother’s Day and for your birthday?” Before I can answer, the husband informs me that he wants to venture into the world of touch screen Apple technology. Namely….the iPhone. I stammered out a stuttery “O.o.o.kay.” And then refrained from jumping across the table, smooching the husband, and then causing a huge scene by doing my happy dance around the OG. Breadstick in one hand. Fistful of olives in the other. Restraint.


Exhibit C:
After leaving the pasta palace of perfection, we headed to the cell phone store. Because just discussing touch screens and how cute I would look texting on an iPhone got to be too much for both the husband and myself. We walked into the store that held no less than eleventy hundred people. All apparently with the same idea as us. We were informed that though we were welcomed in the store, there was a waiting line of eleventy hundred, but that we were free to browse. So browse I did. Straight over to the iPhone. And I spent 14.8 seconds trying to keep my drool puddles under control. Because 14.8 seconds was all the husband could take of the claustrophobia. So I reluctantly placed my new beloved back in its cradle, petted it, and refrained from snatching the darling and making a run for it. RESTRAINT.


Exhibit D:
Headed over to Old Navy to pick up something for Stephanie. She’d asked me to pick up a tee she needed for an Addie Mae order, and I gladly obliged. Saw this. And this. And this. And 59 other super cute things that I really need to have. But I left. With nothing in hand. Except a tee shirt that is way too small for me. RESTRAINT.


Exhibit E:
Headed to Lowe’s for/with the husband. I married the guru of all things handy and tool related. And the guru had a list a mile long of things he needed for all his latest projects. For some reason Lowe’s makes me yawn. And it makes the children lose their sanity. Because the aisles are just so big and run-worthy. So between me falling asleep while leaning on the buggy as the husband picked out hinges and drawer pulls, and the children zapping bad guys hiding behind washers and dryers….we weren’t much help to the husband. In fact, we irritated him. And irked him. And he was ready to fire all four of us.

Me?

RESTRAINT.

Because I didn’t buy the candy bar in the check out aisle.