Panda-moan-ium

I've been having a rough few days, and haven't been getting great sleep, so DH was a dear today and took the Mad Hatter on some errands so I could get some much needed rest.

Around 3:40 this afternoon, I decided that I needed to snap out of my funk and we were going to have some family fun. I quickly hopped on line to check the movie schedule, and declared that we were going to see the 4:35 showing of Kung-Fu Panda. I then managed to get myself showered, dressed, blown dry, and made-up in record time, and off we went.

Let me start off by saying that the Mad Hatter has trouble staying still. I'd like to blame it on the fact that she's 3, but the girl is in Constant. Motion. And has been since she was a baby. However, we've been to a few movies now, and she seemed to be getting better. She loves Panda Bears, has Kung-Fu Panda Eggo waffles, and I figured she'd be pretty engaged by the story. Last time we went to the movies she was quite excited by the great. big. television in front of us.

We bought our tickets, armed ourselves with a ginormous bucket of popcorn (which the MH held and hoovered most of all by herself), big soda, and lots of napkins. We entered the theater as the previews were starting, and found ourselves perfect seats on an aisle. Right behind the Perfects.

The Perfects?

Yes, we all know them. You know, the family you take a look at and instantly feel taken down about 100 notches. Mom was gorgeous. Tall, thin, tan - looked like Catherine Zeta-Jones in a white tube top and mini-skirt. Her legs looked like they went on for miles. There's no way SHE ever got pregnant, got stretch marks, or delivered two children. Dad was a mix of handsome and sexy. Curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. White teeth that glinted in the dim theater. And the kids - 2 gorgeous little boys, I'd guess ages 2 and a half and 4-ish. Dressed alike. One was Perfect Mommy's mini-me and one was Perfect Daddy's. They were all perfectly quiet and perfectly well behaved. Perfect Mommy could of course wear the tube top because her perfect kids would never tug on her shirt and expose her to the world. Yeah, that and the fact that she probably weighed about 100 lbs. Soaking. Wet.

Shortly after the movie started, the youngest of the Perfects curled up in Mommy's lap. The one time they got up (assumingly to go potty), they did so without any noise whatsoever and were back in a flash. They all ate their snacks and drank their drinks quietly and Perfectly.

Then there were the three of us.

MH was good for the first few minutes, while she stuffed her face with popcorn. Her mouthfuls were punctuated with the occasional loud comment about something exciting to her "Look Mommy! It's a turtle!". "Look at the magical stars Daddy! They're MAGICAL!". We were in a full theater, and with every proclamation, I was painfully aware of how loud her voice sounded.

I was also painfully aware of the Perfects sitting right in front of us.

And all the other kids who have clearly been going to movies since the day they were born.

First it was Daddy's turn to take MH to the potty. I'm pretty sure the rows in front of and behind us knew exactly where she was going - she was sure to loudly announce that she had to go. Then it was my turn. Only, for me, she didn't go - but managed, of course, to touch everything I begged her not to touch and get me freaked out because I am sooooo not a fan of public restrooms. Then it was Daddy's turn again. At least she did go for him.

In between trips, we kept reminding her to sit in her chair. We asked her if she wanted to leave (NO!) We told her if she couldn't sit still and enjoy the movie, we would have to leave (NO!). We told her to look at all of the other people sitting and watching the movie. We threatened time out.

She was unfazed.

She played in her seat, climbing on and off. She turned around to look at the projector, exclaiming "Look at THAT Mommy!". She climbed into and out of my lap and into and out of Hubby's.

Finally, we told her that if we had to tell her one more time to sit still, we were going to leave. And we try really hard to never make a threat we're not willing to follow through on.

I was intently watching Jade fight off the evil leopard (I missed his name because I was too busy worrying about MH and her antics) when DH said "That's it, time to go."

So we gathered our stuff, and out we went. I imagined the Perfects and the people behind us cheering.

And you know what? I was annoyed at my child! Annoyed that we spent $40 on tickets and snacks. Annoyed that she has no understanding of the value of a dollar. Annoyed that she just couldn't sit still like all the other normal kids in the theater. Annoyed that she really didn't seem to care that we were leaving. And annoyed that I didn't get to see the ending!

More than anything, I was annoyed that we were not like the Perfects.

It was dinnertime, and we decided to meet my parents for a quick meal at Bertucci's. Of course, as parents and grandparents, they found the situation quite humorous.

But the most humorous of all? The "kids dough" (aka pizza dough) on the table kept the Mad Hatter entertained for the ENTIRE meal. For once, she didn't interrupt us. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't move all over the place. Her creativity was at a peak as she created bracelets, necklaces, and even "Look Sweetheart, I made a matzah ball!" In fact, she had an absolute blast - the dough was far more entertaining to her than any part of being at the movies was.

Had we known that, we would have saved our money and headed straight for dinner!

As parents of a precocious little 3 year old figuring out her place in this world, DH and I are constantly learning that life can be pretty unpredictable, and you need to be willing to roll with the punches and embrace these times because otherwise, we'll go nuts. Not always so easily accomplished, but we try our best.

And although the Perfects of the world really seem to have it together, I'd like to believe they just put on a REALLY. GOOD. SHOW. Or have some deep, dark secrets.

We'd rather live life as one big adventure and resign ourselves to the fact that we're just imPerfect normal.

Normal people who won't be going to the movies for a long time, unless it's date night.