All I ever needed to know about parenting, I learned from waitressing

I'm a waitress. 

Have I told you that? 

Probably not because I really don't like how it sounds.  Truthfully, this is the first time I've said "I'm a waitress."  It's usually, "I've been waiting tables until I find something full time again." .  . or "I'm waiting tables at night because it's a great way to get out of the house after being with the kids all day." . . or even "Well, once you factor in the cost of daycare. . .blah. . .blah. . .blah." 

All of that is true.  It is a great distraction and a way to get out of the house.  So is getting the mail.  And day care is expensive.  These are not the reasons I'm a waitress.  I'm a waitress because it gives me the best opportunity to make the most money, in the fewest hours away from the kids.  Plain and simple. 

It's not really all that part-time, either.  I work close to 30 hours each week, lumped into about four evenings.  In fact, tomorrow is my Monday.  I can't remember the last time I did something on a Friday night, or had a cookout on a Saturday.  But I don't mind.   It gives Bill great alone time with the kids. . .dinner and books and bedtimes. 

It's not easy work.  It's constantly being on your feet, with a smile on your face, keeping people happy after you've already worked at "happy" for 10 hours that day.  More meals to serve, more drinks to pour, things to clean, more "what else can I get for you this evening?"  Side note:  Dansko's work clogs are not only the most comfortable shoes on the planet, they are one of the cutest.  God sent them down from heaven for us to wear and enjoy.  Find them on Zappos.com and please, for all that is holy, go straight for the patent leather navy. 

It wasn't easy at first, I'll tell you.  I was always the boss.  I made the rules.  People got me coffee.  Okay, that's a lie.  People probably would have picked me up a coffee if I asked nicely and they were going that way, anyway.  But you get my drift.  I thought I knew plenty back then when I worked a "real" job, making "real" money while doing all of my "real" things.  But I've learned more about parenting while bringing people their dinner than in any job I've had or probably ever will. 

All I ever needed to know about parenting, I learned while working a terrible paying job in the food service industry. . .

-- treat everyone kindly; even your waitress.  They can be terrible at their job, the food can be awful, the atmosphere unbearable and your evening ruined. . .but your children will watch the way you treat others. . .and will talk to me the same way you did when you leave the table.   

-- children will be children and that's okay.  What's not okay is when you allow them to act in ways you wouldn't stand for at home. ( i.e.: smashing their french fries into their seats, rolling up place mats and tossing across the restaurant, coloring on walls, etc.).  If, by chance, these are actually things you allow your kids to do at home. . .please disregard because I could tell the minute you walked in the door that you had no manners and gave another waitress $5 bucks to deal with you.

-- you're going to touch nasty things.  At the restaurant, it's probably just ketchup. . .think of all the possibilities it could be at home.

-- always tip 20%.  That one is just for my benefit and has nothing to do with parenting at all.  But you should really do it. . . most of the time.

-- if I can scrape it off your plate without you noticing. . .I win.  You will never know I wasn't really listening when you said "no onions."   This also applies when your 2 year old goes through his "the-vegetable-can't-be-on-the-side-of-the-plate-closest-to-the-east-side-of-the-house" week.  A quick turn, a scrape, a smile.

-- you probably could use extra napkins.

-- presentation is everything.  Even Cole will eat broccoli when it looks like little trees growing out of mashed potato mountains.   And you won't send back your $8 sliver of cheesecake when I drown it in Hershey's syrup and make a little joke about not having to share. . . 

-- try to remember what folks like.  Even if it's not important to you, it is to them and will make them feel important when you remember. Cole's eyes light up when I dig through the freezer to find a blue ice pop and the old couple at table 44 likes baked potatoes with extra sour cream but only one pat of butter.  P.S.:  they also split a salad on one plate by placing it in the center of the table. . . that's really weird, but they do.  I hope table 44 doesn't read my blog. . .

-- anticipate what they need and you'll avoid a temper tantrum.  This also applies to other waitresses, cooks, toddlers and especially the boss.

-- always thank the bartender.  This also doesn't exactly have to do with parenting, except that if you're in the vicinity of a bartender. . .someone else has the kids and you should be in a thankful mood to begin with!

Anyway, the point is. . .I make $3 an hour serving others and it's okay.  Most people aren't really nice. . .and man. . .I really should collect all my "can you believe this guy?!?" stories into one post for you. . .but every now and then someone appreciates what I do.  When they do, it feels weird because this job isn't like others I've had. . .I'm never looking for appreciation.  For some pat on the back for doing a good job and a bonus from the boss.   I'm just trying to do something that will let me spend more time with the kids.

And when I think about it. . .isn't that what all moms are trying to do? 

Now go out to dinner and tip 20%. . .after tax. 

Family news. . .

I've been trying really hard to make the backyard fun this summer.  With Matilda being so little, we're just not all that portable during the day but Cole is like a Labrador and needs to run.  I've tried. . .

. . .plastic Little Tikes outdoorsy things . . .

I've tried to take indoor activities outside. . .like painting. . .

. . .and stuck with tried-and-true summer fun like the sprinkler. . .

We're having a great summer but sometimes. . .you can't beat the beach. . .

. . or being "posted up by the ladies" with a slice of watermelon. . .