Cozy

We have a new lunch spot in our tiny town called the Cozy Cafe. Mr. and I ate there three times in four days the first week it was open. Lunch Saturday, Brunch Sunday, and two more lunches. It's cute, clean, and has to-die-for chicken salad. I'm talking about the perfect mayo to chicken to grapes to walnuts to celery ratio. They've got it down to a science.

My girlfriend, who is also named the same outrageous name as I am, and I have taken the kids here for lunch a few times and crawled to the front corner booth and enjoyed some conversation while the kids played hockey on the table with the abundance of jelly packs in a plastic container a'la Perkins. The kids can climb over one another and no one really notices and we can actually eat our food - as supposed to shove it down in one bite - and enjoy at least half an iced tea.

Today was not such a day.

We met up with our Mom's group at a local park for Spring Art Fest. A former kindergarten teacher, in all her glory, created an art scene any preschooler would pee their potty trained self upon arrival. There were stations to paint in with fingers/pudding/shaving cream and places to glue noodles/fabric/leaves/boogers (Check the orange paper with Z's name on it. You'll see it.) and all kinds of nifty art stations.

It was like the art classroom you never had in elementary school that came to life in movies. Except, it was alive and kicking in real life. Really alive and kicking. The prairie winds had recently sent us into a Wind Advisory. This is saying something in Iowa, as I feel like everyday we could call the breeze tornado-like winds. However, not sure what made these prairie winds advisable, but they were in full gear, dancing the paint bottles across picnic tables, paint brushes flew like shot put spears into the bushes, and nearly every carefully dyed noodle ended up glued to children's smocks as they squirted some Elmers just as Prairie Wind thrust her power and sent the trail of glue onto little chests, just before the macaroni's danced a jig and ended up tangoing themselves onto the glue.

Even some masking tape and creative thinking couldn't keep the artwork from swan diving off the picnic tables and into a race against each other in the wind. Moms started cleaning up and kids started shivering and climbing the long, narrow steps of the ladder to the slide of death. It may have only been a super tall twisty slide, but I was sure Zoe's Gymboree bows would use her swirling pigtails as wings and take off, spilling her 30lbs of cuteness into the two stories of open air below while her sweatshirt ballooned out, creating a sail, and the next time I'd see her would be when I could catch up to her in Chicago, or some other Eastern city where the wind dies down. Yeah, Chicago's only the Windy City because people actually go there for fun and experience the wind. Lose the skyscrapers and people and you've got yourself a real Windy City.

Anyways, we were tortured and bruised and I looked over to see Zoe bare-crotched and squatting in the wind, pee whipping around the grass in a steady flow. We made eye contact and she did a little shrug, pulled on her clothes, and gave new meaning to drip and dry, ladies.

Mrs. 2 and I decided to take the kids to the Cozy Cafe to have some warm food, coffee drinks of choice, and 20 minuets of quiet before the afternoon Nap. Ah, Nap.

We were welcomed with a "Hey! Nice to see you!" from our usual server just as Zoe lurched onto the floor, clutching her stomach, and squealing.

"I know you are hungry! Let's find a table!" I said cheerily, praying no one else we knew was in the place. A group of four elderly women pushed past us and took our table booth. Three of them. Six of us. The rest of the place was four or two top tables.

"I HAVE TO GO POOP!" shouted Zoe as she rolled, summersaulted, and tumbled on the floor.

"Get. Up. NOW!" I hissed, trying to keep a tight grip on the little monkey on my hip who really wanted a piece of the action as I leaned down to the psychotic dwarf writhing at my feet.

Holding both of them, we ran as Zoe made it known as to what we were heading to the bathroom to accomplish.

Xander took it upon himself to try to lick every surface in the bathroom at least once as I also tried to help Zoe balance on the king of all potty seats. One sneeze and she was going in.

We made it out with six jolts of automatic soap, one landing on X's head, and sixteen paper towels, to see Mrs. 2, Camile, and Cole were trying to squeeze themselves on one side of a tiny booth. We did the same, just in time to have Zoe & Camile have a jelly slurping contest - something apparently Cole created in which you pull back the tiniest bit of the jelly film, cover it back up, and see who can slurp the jelly out the fastest. They were also throwing back sugar packets like it was Spring Break in Candy Land and we also had Escape-A-Xander on our hands.

"Are we ready to order?" got an emphatic and resounding "YES!" from two tired mommas.

Zoe tried her best to use her head as a wedge between the wall and a pretty piece of artwork. She failed, but not until the owner came over to gently place his hand on the knock off and ask Zoe to knock it off. If we hadn't already ordered, we would be back in the car with me threatening no more treats/Diego/bubbles, in that order, but we had ordered and our food should be here "any minute".

Seventeen minutes later we had cleared out the booths around us and had Xander on the hip of a waitress getting a tour of the kitchen. I don't even think I tasted my chicken salad. I did, however, taste the ketchup that somehow got squeezed at the perfect angle to miss any food items, but directly hit the side of my shirt, shoulder, mouth and nose. Good thing I was wearing white!

Xander decided to try going boneless, and succeeded, and we scarfed our food and paid our checks (what is 40% of $12? You know, let's make it 50% so we are allowed to come back).

Zoe and Camile dashed into traffic as we both screamed NO! and Cole managed to smuggle out a piece of cake from the dessert counter on our way out. I could hear Mrs. 2 about to lose it as I strapped my two  monkeys into their seats.

As she pulled out we made eye contact. At that exact time we both raised our right hands and pretended to shoot ourselves in the side of our heads.