We forget every.single.Sunday.

We always forget. We forget what just happened the previous Sunday. It's 12:30 and we get too hungry. Our bellies start growling and we convenience ourselves that we might starve to death if we don't eat before driving 20 minutes home. So...we go out to eat.

We can't seem to remember what happened last week when we did this...we forget...

-that *good* restaurants are always packed on Sundays.
-that LB is 16 months old and he doesn't want to sit still. He wants to run.
-which restaurants offer us bread and which don't...and if they don't...we have to order and appetizer to keep the kids busy while we wait for the rest of the meal.
-that it takes the food forever to get to our table.
-that NO ONE gives out enough napkins and that something always spills.
-that neither of the kids ever eat all the food we order for them.
-that half of these darn restaurants don't serve milk or juice. Come on...please, have milk or juice for my kids to drink. They don't like carbonated drinks and fresh cranberry juice is nasty. I don't think I am asking too much.
-that LB is in the current, very annoying and cute at the same time, independent-I-want-to-do-everything-myself stage. That's annoying when you are dealing with ketchup, soups, and drinks with loose lids.
-that LB is one messy kid when he eats.
-that it takes the waitress FOREVER to bring our check out.
-that Big Daddy and I stare at each other which looks on our faces that say, "Why did we do this...AGAIN?"

We forget all of this stuff. Every.week. Then, as soon as we sit down...we remember...and we vow to eat at home next week...and the vicious cycle continues.