So last weekend I managed to cram in a bit of socialising. Kind of. For someone who is apparently a little antisocial anyway.
Whilst there was a fair amount of socialising it was predominately with the same person – My Brummie bestie. Those who know me, or her for that matter, won’t be surprised. Can you sense my eye roll?
Nonetheless it started Friday night, we have had this date in the diary for ages, well after it had been postponed and re-arranged a dozen times because, well life. My night didn’t get of to the best of starts. Mr T was late home and stroppy post stressful day. That and the mixings of a potentially deadly strain of man flu. So, I managed to throw the kids into bed bang on 7, slap on some make up and be out the door for 25 past. A quick wet wipe over the snot on the only pair of jeans that don’t currently make me feel like a whale and re-applying make-up over already existing make-up is about as good as it gets – The first reminder that life.has.changed. and I am getting older.
It wasn’t a big fancy night out, just a curry and a bottle of prosecco as we put the world to rights. Perfect. Nope, no clubs *shudders*, no shots and no heels. REMINDER No.2
That said it was lovely, we ate, slowly and uninterrupted. No baked beans, no iPads or bribery required. I felt positively human. Miraculously I drank a responsible amount and was tucked up in bed at a sensible hour. REMINDER No.3
This was shortly followed by the horrendous feeling of plain ill, which I have been for goodness knows how long now. Heartburn, stomach cramps, an unpleasant need to be in the bathroom. REMINDER No.4. My Stomach no longer cares for curries and beer.
Saturday was therefore pretty shite. My children didn’t want to leave the house and despite my best efforts of sensibleness the previous evening I had very little sleep and therefore felt awful. REMINDER no.5.
Roll on Sunday.
Sunday had been planned for some time. We were invited to The George Pub in Oldbury to try out their new menu. Mr Tammy however, also suffering from age and man flu had to go into work and decided that he was too poorly to face work followed by a Sunday lunch out with the children. So in stepped my Brummie Bestie.
We borrowed a car from Mr T’s place of work, one that would allow us to get 3 oversized car seats safely into the back. In case you are wondering that car would be an S-Max. Should you be so
insane inclined to have 3 children all of whom are at car seat age, which will be anyone with children as they are now supposed to have a car sear until their 4o, or so it seems. REMINDER No6. – I was driving an S-MAX, it doesn’t get more life changing (old) and family friendly than that.
Anyway after 60 minutes trying to leave the house we eventually trundled across Birmingham with three children in the back wanting to share and swop everything every 4 minutes, loudly. Oh and radio 2, that I couldn’t work out how to change. REMINDER No.7.
Anyway we made it, only half an hour late. We arrived to a table already laid, complete with high chairs and children’s cutlery, swiftly followed by the standard children’s colouring that is hurtled your way in any family friendly establishment. I’m not complaining but you know, REMINDER No.8.
Herein followed 90 minutes of your typical meal out with children. No sooner had bums touched seats did we hear,
‘Mummy can I go over there and get some sauce’
Before I can answer she is legging is across the restaurant to retrieve said sauce. Quickly followed by demands from her brother to follow suit. Of course she only gets 1 sachet of sauce meaning she needs to make another 4 return trips to ensure everyone has a sachet of sauce, whether they want sauce or not.
Naturally they don’t wish to sit and wait for their food instead opting to run around like mad things to toward the games machines – where all three children descend to make noise and generally irritate other diners. Sorry.
Given our lateness and my inability to successfully parent of late my two were basically famished having only had breakfast and it now being 1.15pm, as such I thought it best to order them a starter to share. Despite ordering from the adult menu it amazingly came out on a separate plastic children’s plate each, THANK GOD. I know, a silly thing to get excited about (REMINDER NO.7) but it meant that there was to be no arguing over who had the big plate the food was served on and who gets the substitute second plate I’ve doubtlessly had to ask for – don’t ask, the struggle is real people.
My two also shared a main meal, which without asking came on separate children’s plates. HURRAH. This again meant I did not have to referee a battle between the plates and quantity of food distributed. It was as though they had their own grown up meal each.
I ordered that traditional Sunday dinner of fajitas and my Brummie Bestie a black and blue steak. As you do. Totally worth it though, it was amazing and we literally ate everything. To my surprise so did both of my children. They share a kids meal because finishing even a shared meal is basically unheard of, let alone devouring a starter, main and ice cream. I mean the ice cream is no surprise.
HAVE I MADE YOU HUNGRY YET??
All in all we had a great lunch at The George, everybody ate everything, the staff were unbelievably nice and child friendly, in fact the whole set up was very child friendly. That said, it would have been nice if the three kids were more inclined to sit for longer and 40 seconds and I didn’t have to spend so much of my lunch time hearding unruly sheep back into their chairs on the promise of ice cream but you know I would also like to win the lottery.
Eating such a large meal out relieved me of my cooking duties for the evening and instead allowed me to bath and bed the kids and curl up in bed at the ripe old time of 8pm, hot cocoa in hand and watch an hour of our latest box set before swiftly passing out. REMINDER No 9.
So there it was a weekend where I learnt just how much having children ages you and managed to cram in two successful and sociable meals out, of very different nature’s granted.