Getting out of the house is a challenge

I have lately had a major pet peeve with certain local establishments.

With two small children and no husband around for a few more months, it is entirely possible that I might, upon occasion, frequent such dining venues that cater more to my children’s taste than mine. I’m talking about places where food the children are served almost always comes complete with a plastic toy that breaks immediately or that my son might use to torture his baby sister.

I do want to stress that this is only occasionally, lest some readers believe I dine in such establishments with a high degree of regularity thus ensuring that my children’s digestive tracts faintly resemble those of a can of Crisco.

I mention this because, at such locales that specifically cater to small children, it has become readily apparent to me that certain things are missing from aforementioned restaurants. These are things that are inherently and desperately needed in anyplace that encourages young ones and the end results of their eating the foods such establishments offer.

In short, I have found it unbelievable the number of restaurants that do not have infant changing tables installed in their restrooms.

When one is a harried mother with two children whimpering from hunger in the car’s back seat because grocery shopping has taken longer that foreseen due to complications, like the entire toy department’s bouncing ball section or the twelve foot tower of Legos that is now only one foot tall, one realizes that one’s children need to eat immediately lest one’s eardrums implode.

Of course, it is almost always on these occasions that I realize my 16-month-old daughter is beaming at me happily from her car seat because she has left me a gift in her pants. Additionally, one can be certain that it will be at this juncture that my three year old will also start yelling as the aroma of said gift wafts its way through the car.

At this point, I only need two things: An eating establishment that requires minimum wait time (or ear plugs) and a bathroom with a changing table.

But visit a local chain pizza place that offers immediate tummy gratification with a lunchtime buffet, and one will find a serious problem in its tiny bathroom. Namely, that the sink counter is too narrow to put a baby down on and that there is no area to change a wiggling and extremely aromatic child.

Such places also dislike it when hypothetically a mother, in a fit of desperation, attempts to change her baby in a booth in front of other customers attempting to eat. Please do not ask how I know this. I swear I thought I was being subtle, until the first diner went running out of the restaurant holding her nose. Theoretically holding her nose, I mean.

I personally thought she might have found it even more repellent had I left aforementioned infant in her fragrant diaper. I mean, hypothetically, I would have thought that had I known anyone involved in the above situation.

Out of curiosity, I called a local fried chicken franchise to inquire as to why they did not offer an area to change a baby. I was told that they could not have a diaper changing stall and also have their bathrooms be ADA accessible as well.

So it’s just not infant accessible.

Then, there is my personal favorite: There used to be only one restaurant in Palmer that offered a children’s play land. That restaurant, which will remain royally nameless, has since closed. But such a place obviously encouraged very small children to come in and play given its areas of slides, mirrors, and ladders.

Guess what it didn’t have?

Well, aside from caviar and foie de gras on its menu, this fast food place also lacked a diaper changing area! I can only hope, as it transfers over from a King to a Queen with a grand opening soon, that this situation is rectified.

It’s funny how my needs have changed over the years. When I was in college, my main concern consisted of a restaurant’s prices and if I had enough for a decent tip if I ordered water. A decade ago, my main concern centered on a restaurant’s wine list and if they had a good Riesling.

Now, the first place I visit is the bathroom, even if everyone in my party is sweet smelling and not crossing their legs.

When my husband returns home in just a few months (Yeay!!), I will have a list waiting for him in the car explaining which restaurants he is welcome to eat at with the kids, and at which local restaurants he will be taking his life and nose in his hands by frequenting.

I will be leaving him this list because I know he will be eager to get out and spend some quality time with the children while I enjoy my first pedicure in over a year. And, while he is enjoying himself, I am sure he will want to feed his children at a local restaurant, because our little angels, as a rule, are much happier when they are not starving.

And if a place has no room for him to change his daughter, who is almost certain to have a particular output at some time during any meal, then such a restaurant definitely does not want him to eat there.

I have learned this through some tough lessons. And trust me: I have no plans to subject any other diners to a full view of me changing my baby on a bench beside a table where people are eating. I have learned that such just truly halts appetites in their tracts.

Although it’s a great way to clear a line in a buffet to get at the good pizza first before it disappears.

Hypothetically speaking, of course. I would never do such a thing, even if I had just paid for my meal and my son’s meal and only then discovered there was nowhere for me to change my fragrant daughter. Because that would just be wrong.

Hypothetically speaking.

Tiffany Horvath is the mother of two and the stepmother of one. Her husband, Drew, is deployed to Iraq. She writes every Sunday abut life at home for the wife of a deployed soldier.