Archer Destroys Dinner & I’m Speaking at a #Mother Gathering


OH hey! So, if you’re a mom in Oklahoma and you’re all “I need to find my mom tribe because this motherhood thing is ridiculously hard” then I have an event for YOU, my friend. Mother Manifesto is hosting the first-ever big #Mother Gathering in Tulsa on September 10th and we would be tickled pink to be there. It’ll be an evening full of surprises, snacks, drinks, and other cool moms looking to build authentic community. I’ll be there speaking along with a few other great girls and I would LOVE to see you there.

And here, my friends, is why I am qualified to be a speaker at an event about motherhood (pls note: tongue firmly in cheek).

Last Friday it was our 11th anniversary eve and  I was feeling super ambitious even though (foreshadowing) it had really been one of THOSE days where I could not WAIT for Simon get home and hELP ME WITH THESE CHILDREN.  Oh, know what’s a good idea? I tell Simon we should go out to dinner with the kids to the same restaurant where we had our rehearsal dinner 11 years ago. Because awww, how precious is that, and also? They have the most delish coconut shrimp ever. And! Extra Ambitious Me was all “Let’s invite your grandma to go with us!” since she lives in our neighborhood and is always fun to go places with.

Simon was accommodating and said sure, so off we went. We aren’t strangers to taking both boys (the 8 year old and the 1 1/2 year old) to restaurants, but it’s gotten, well, trickier in the past couple weeks. Archer is probably best described as a ring-tailed tooter which is putting it nicely.

So there we sat! In our connubial wedded bliss of 11 years, admiring our spawn and gazing with pride upon their darling wee heads! It lasted for approximately 2.385 minutes before Archer started trying to climb out of the booth. UM NO. NO YOU WILL NOT. SIT DOWN.







Then there’s a look of wild desperation in my eyes, I am sure of it, as I express to the poor non-breeding newborn man-child waiter that I NEED MASHED POTATOES LIKE NOW for the baby because otherwise? There will be hell to pay. HELL. TO. PAY.

Then the poor embattered weary mother sitting in the booth next to us (whose child is also attempting to climb the walls) haltingly comes over to apologize for her kid climbing into our booth and also could she please have a diaper because she ran out. Oh honey. YES. HERE. PLEASE. Take all the diapers! Because I have SO BEEN THERE. We are a mom TEAM, sister.


The mashed potatoes arrive and all is going pretty well, which again, lasts for about 5 minutes. By this point, Archer is up to his armpits in mashed spuds and has mastered the same maneuver as his older brother: the unconscious Wiping of the Dirtied Hands Right Onto His Shirt. Sometimes he unconsciously does this to my clothes as well. I have mashed potatoes down my left boob for the majority of the time we are in the restaurant.

(I think it was about this point when I SWEAR I saw a vision of 24-year-old me in my Rehearsal Dinner Dress looking innocently and unknowingly into the future. 24 Year Old Me did NOT have mashed potatoes on her boobs, just FYI.)

The coconut shrimp arrive to much oohs and aahs. And then it’s like Archer just KNOWS. He KNOWS I am not paying attention to him. He KNOWS I want to enjoy my $$$ coconut shrimp and he is NOT HAVING IT.



He starts flailing and sobbing and fit-throwing and there I am trying to eat the $@3*! coconut shrimp and finally? I could not take it any longer. I start throwing the last remaining shrimp straight into the diaper bag, all the while hissing at Simon and his grandma that I am going straight to the car with this child because NO I CANNOT TAKE IT ONE SECOND MORE. And then I march straight out of the restaurant with Left-Boob Mashed Potatoes and two free-floating coconut shrimps in my bag and one screaming toddler under the other arm. We get in the car where I snap the baby into his carseat and plonk down into the front and promptly begin to sob over the two sad shrimps lying in the bottom of my bag. I ate them forlornly and then tossed the tails out the window into the parking lot. I coconut shrimp-littered. And I did not even care one shred.

Because it was just ONE OF THOSE KINDS OF DAYS. Hard.

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Motherhood is SO DARN HARD, you guys. We need our mom squad. Our girls we can call when we’re crying in the parking lot outside the rehearsal dinner restaurant because the baby was just so darn awful and nobody else seemed to get it.

So I hope that you’ll grab your girlfriends and come hang out with us at the #Mother Gathering on September 10th. Grab those tickets here.

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