Nicky's Beef

I could have avoided it altogether.  I’m certain of it.  Had I “listened to my <Ella’s> words” and moved from my current seat in the booth next to Cal to the empty one waiting for Dan to fill it next to Ella, Ella would have been perfectly content and well on her way to her normal, mostly tolerable antics while dining publicly.  The wildcard was Cal, but he would have surely handled my move away from him better than Ella did.  He may have pouted or shouted ONCE, “No!” or loudly whined, “WHYEEE?” or informed either me or Ella (or both of us) that he no longer liked us.  As far as keeping the peace was concerned, I knew my best move would have been to comply with the princess’s wishes and sit down next to her for our post-beach Sunday dinner at Nicky’s.  But I chose to stay next to Cal.

Why I chose this battle to fight, I’m not sure.  More often than I like to admit, I give in to Ella’s demands with the only rationale being to avoid the certain fight or meltdown that would ensue should I not.  Sometimes, I’m just choosing to not engage myself in a battle because it’s just not worth fighting it, as in:

Me: “It’s camp shirt day, Ella.  School wants you to wear your camp shirt on camp shirt day.  Please wear your camp shirt.”

Ella <sharply>: “No!  I want to wear a dress!”

Me: “Okay”… be the only kid NOT wearing her camp shirt.

Other times, there’s just not enough time to battle, as in:

Me <rushed>: “Please put some socks on with your running shoes, Ella.”

Ella: “No!  I don’t like socks!”

Me <looking at my watch and realizing any further delay will make us late>: “Fine, I hope you get blisters. Please put your shoes on.”

And then Ella happily puts on her running shoes without socks and, unfortunately, doesn’t get blisters.

And sometimes… let’s be honest… right or wrong… bad-precedent-setting or not… sometimes I’m just not in the mood.  Apparently yesterday, I was in the mood.

I don’t think it’s the way she insisted I sit by her, though I suppose the mere fact that she insisted I do so is a little troubling.  But she wasn’t necessarily bossy, mean or smirky about it, just pleasantly presumptuous.  And it’s not even that I just really, really, really wanted to sit next to Cal.  Sure, I think he gets cheated out of Mommy time (and I out of Cal time) more often than I’d like; but I really didn’t choose to sit next to him – we just fell into the seating arrangement.

I think it was just time.  Ella and I have had some tough exchanges at bedtime lately, the kind that involve my telling her “I don’t even LIKE to put you to bed anymore” very matter-of-factly and honestly, a completely ineffective tactic lost on Ella and not even something that makes me feel good.  Last Thursday’s debacle of a bedtime was still fresh in my memory where Ella and I reached unprecedented levels of not doing what the other wanted, Ella mouthy, not staying in bed and crying and me yelling despite my vow not to, taking things away from her with every infraction and feeling more frustrated than ever, unsure of the right thing to do and certain everything that I was doing was the wrong thing.

When she first started making a big deal about my sitting next to her at Nicky’s, I tried to deflect a bit and get her to be interested in the seating pattern that we had unknowingly established.  “Look, Ella, look at the pattern!”  I told her excitedly.  Pointing to Cal first and circling clockwise, I said “Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl!  That’s a cool pattern – we can’t switch seats!”  As cool as I thought I had made it sound (I was reaching), Ella wasn’t biting.  With my body still diagonal from hers at the table, she got more upset, insisting I sit next to her.  The more upset and bossy she got, the more I dug in – at this point, I wasn’t going to move, whatever the cost.  And I told her this.

She then escalated her dissatisfaction with me by yelling at me, yelling at Cal, declaring she hated Daddy (what did he do?) and me and, I think, Cal.  "WHY aren't you LISTENING to my WORDS?!" she shouted.  She even got up to put her purse at a different table and marched back to her spot diagonal from me. I’m not sure what purpose moving the purse served but I’m sure she thought this was another way to express her frustration that I wasn’t complying with her demands.

At this point, we were really loud in a fairly packed restaurant.  I glanced around, and, to my surprise, only one other table showed any visible interest in what was going on at our table, the one man smiling, almost laughing and the other subtly glancing at us, well, because you can’t help but look at the train wreck.  Dan, still at the counter waiting for our food, finally peeked back at our table and mouthed, “I’ll get it to go. Take them to the car.”

This was the right move.  Ella was just short of throwing herself on the ground, screaming and flailing her arms and legs up and down, but I gave her one last chance.  I always feel like I need to give the official warning that an undesirable consequence of the kids' misbehaviors is about to happen unless the misbehaviors stop, as if it's warranted or even effective.  I told Ella that I wasn't moving and if she didn't stop yelling by the time I count to three we would leave and eat dinner at home.  Without hesitation and before I even said, "1," she continued her rant; so off we headed to the car where I proceeded to apologize to Cal about having to leave and explained to Ella that, in so many words, she's the reason we had to leave.  When Dan finally made it to the car, he had his own things to say, essentially reinforcing what I had already said (but blaming Cal for some of it, which may have been justified -- I was so locked in on Ella, Cal could have been loud and swinging from the ceiling fans and I wouldn't have noticed).

I could have given in at any moment in those 10 or so minutes inside Nicky's and gotten Ella to quiet down and just be happy by simply sitting next to her instead of Cal.  Dan would have brought our sandwiches and fries to us for us to "enjoy" the usual dinner out at a restaurant, the kids needing constant reminders to sit in their seats and eat, Dan questioning our decision to eat out and me already worrying about Ella's bedtime.

I could have given in, but I didn't.  Hopefully, we'll all be better off for it.