two dramatically different evenings this weekend remind me that
1) our children are not yet predictable
2) we are at the mercy of their moods
3) every minute with twins is bound to keep you on your toes.
Saturday night Gina's dad, Steve, was in town for a quick layover so we drove up to meet him for dinner at the Proud Bird. First a little tangent - if you've never heard or experienced this restaurant and you have even the slightest interest in airplanes, you need to give this place a try. Been around for 53 years, has over a dozen actual planes on display around the grounds and hundreds of old photos showing historic moments and people in the timeline of aeronautics lining the walls. Very cool vibe, and the food is great to boot! Now, back to the evening: the girls were flawless, perfectly behaved from the moment we sat until the moment we left. Let me set the mood for you, when you walk into a room with twin infants you can feel the eyes of the guests and staff follow you across the room in a moment of "oh no, disaster has arrived". Rightly so. I've had many dinners, movies, plane flights and various other experiences ruined by the banshee wail of a newborn. That high pitched squeal that lasts an eternity between breaths. So you can imagine our pride when towards the end of the meal an older couple made a point to stop by our table and tell us how amazed they were at our girls. The woman said she had been watching us all night (surely waiting for "the moment") and they were so impressed that our girls behaved themselves for such a long time and at such a young age. Cue the proud parental glow. Flash forward to tonight (Sunday). 24 hours removed from such a high we were reminded that the girls are infact infants, and that last night was not to be expected as a nightly occurrence. We had dinner at Gina's parents house, and really for 9/10ths of the night they were their usual great selves. But when the clock strikes 7. ... find shelter. We hurredly swallowed what was in our mouths, packed up toys and strapped in babies, rushed out the door and endured the high pitched shrieks of Arianna's new found scream all the way home. We were in such a rush we had call Karma's name a few lights away to verify she made it into the car. Who were these children. We checked the lables, they were ours. So who did we take to dinner last night? Lesson in parenthood learned. The child you experienced last night is not the child you're gauranteed tonight. Nor is the child from tonight gauranteed to you any other evening. You may strike fortune again down the line and have the angel for a future engagement, or you could continually find yourself with the banshee. ... it's a crap shoot. But what makes it all so worth while is that when the wailing is done and the jammies are on and the final feedeing has taken place, your angels come home to you every single night. And when they look up at you with sleepy, happy eyes just before they drift off and you get a milky, drooly smile. ... your heart is lost. And you head to bed quite certain that no one will ever find it again.