brunch at Nana's - one of the few places I feel at home eating outside mine
I have a confession:
I'm afraid of dining out. In a restaurant. With the kids.
... Not because our kids aren't well-behaved. The three (yes, three) times we've taken them out to dinner with us in the seventeen months since Fable was born, they've been awesome. They ate their food and
played under the tablesat in their seats and Archer colored on Hal's arm and Fable ate my lipstick and it was actually kind of lovely.
Twice in seventeen months is all I'm up for, because here's the (quite embarrassing, really) thing: I care what people think.
At least, I care what people think in restaurants and coffee shops when I can feel their eyes burning holes in the back of my head. And then I get awkward and weird and spill things all over myself. And then it's not the kids I have to worry about but my own neurosis - because all of a sudden I'm apologizing to everyone I see -even when there's nothing to apologize for - just in case something happens that might offend, annoy or put them off, and pretty soon I'M the one who's spilling food all over someone's lap...