Perspective from the Lobster Tank

Yesterday we went out to dinner to celebrate because I was honored to be chosen as a BlogHer Voice of the Year honoree this year. The girls put on dresses and Abby insisted on wearing silver shoes that were too small, and we headed out to Red Lobster to gorge ourselves on cheddar biscuits. 

We made our way through our meal, trying to make conversation, and helping the kids constantly put their coats on and take them off again because they couldn’t decide if they were too hot or too cold. We went back and forth to the bathroom (and, not coincidentally, past the lobster tank) three times. At one point we all abandoned our table because all of the kids were whispering  they had an “emergency” at the same time, so we went to take them to the restrooms– again. 

Towards the end of our meal, as we waited for boxes for the food that sat untouched on the kids’ plates, Nick whispered that it was his turn to need the facilities, so Eddie whisked him away. Penny started getting restless. She got out of her seat and walked over to share some food off of Abby’s plate. Abby had chosen orange slices as her side dish. The two of them started making silly faces with the orange peels. A second earlier, Abby had tried to walk over to me, bumped her leg on the table, and for a brief moment, hopped around in the aisle very dramatically. Alone at the table with my daughters, I could feel myself starting to lose my patience.  

Then a stranger was kind enough to stop by our table on her way out the door and give me back some perspective. 

Her husband rushed ahead of her and honestly seemed a bit irritated that she was bothering us. But I was not bothered at all. In fact, I was comforted by her words. 

“I just had to tell you, your children are wonderful. It’s so nice to see.” 

As I thanked her I realized that when she looked at us, she wasn’t looking at my children’s faults, as in that moment I had been. She was looking at the bigger picture. Her mind saw us as a family eating a special dinner. She saw my children sharing their food. She saw us engaging in conversations. Maybe she noticed that we don’t allow our children to take toys or electrons into restaurants, or maybe she didn’t notice that at all because she was too busy seeing my kids engage with each other. Maybe she was close enough to hear my son use his manners when he placed his order. Or maybe she just thought I looked flustered and needed a little bit of encouragement. All of those things could be true. 

I don’t know what it was that made her stop in that moment, but I’m glad that she did. 

Now I can do the same thing for you. Maybe it’s been a while since a stranger stopped to compliment your kids.

But “I just had to tell you, your children are wonderful.”