It's inevitable.  I can not recall a single time in the past two years that I have been anywhere with my kids that someone has not stopped me to say, "Boy, you've got your hands full."  The sad truth is that I have yet to come up with a witty reply.  So far, all I have been able to muster is a smile and a half hearted "yes I do." 

On the flip side of the general perception of those with whom I come into contact on a daily basis, those that perceive my hands as full, I honestly do not feel burdened.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  There are days that I wish would be over sooner than others.  Days that bedtime has come at 6 pm simply to avoid a lynching.  I mean, we start each morning with a head count and I would prefer to keep that number constant.  I don't need to lose any of the flock simply because, "Daddy just lost it!  Really.  He snapped!"

I truly enjoy what I do.  I love my kids and I'm proud of them, proud of their good manners and the way they act when in public.  It never crosses my mind that maybe I should call the sitter or make other arrangements when the shopping needs to be done.  Oh, we still have the pre-entry speech about "best behavior" and "inside voices", respect the other patrons of the restaurant, etc., etc.  But I really have to laugh (on the inside) at the shock and disbelief I receive from those who couldn't imagine taking their own children to the grocery store, the hardware store or yes, even to a restaurant.  

Tonight, El Campesino.  The kids had just finished their swim lessons at the YMCA and were starving.  It was already after 7:00 pm and I was running pretty much on empty myself and I really wasn't in the mood to go home and start cooking.  The very mention of "restaurant" to my kids sets off bevy a squeals and screams the likes of which can only be comparable to the circus coming to town.   I tempered the mood only slightly by suggesting Mexican food this evening.  Usually, my kids go for wings or your typical American cuisine.  Basically, if they serve Mac and Cheese, the place rocks.  They ordered it so much I actually had to institute a rule.  "No more Mac and Cheese at restaurants.  You can eat all you want at home."  There was also some other under my breath grumbling about how a 33 cent box of Kraft can feed all of us and I'm tired of paying $4.95 only to have you eat half a plate then make a ploy for desert.  But I didn't want to come off like some crazed tightwad so I used the old "we're here to try new things" and "let's order something you can't get everyday at home" tactics.  And no, it doesn't really work but I stick to my guns and I pay $7.95 to watch them take two bites of chicken alfredo and push it aside and make their ploy for desert.  Mexican is not their favorite but they knew the only alternative was going home to a cup of yogurt and bed.  "Ole!" came the chants from the back of the van.

The comments began before I could even get inside the door.  "Oh, my.  Are they all yours?"  "My, you've got your hands full."  My kids are so used to hearing it all that they've developed their own little spiel.  My boy Z usually starts out.  "There's seven people in our house.  Mommy is at work."  Then Zoë proceeds with the introductions, names and ages.  She usually has to do it twice because inevitably a small crowd gathers and someone missed the first couple of names or wasn't paying attention and realized by the last couple of names that all five of my kids start with Z.  She has never refused a request to repeat the family introductions. 

The oogling and compliments usually start sometime soon thereafter.  I counted no less than 5 that felt it necessary to compliment me this evening on how well behaved my kids were and what a good job I was doing.  And of course, there's always at least one that thinks I'm just so sweet to give Mommy a break for the evening.  I really don't even try with those anymore.  In the past, I would explain how I was the stay at home dad and had given up my career yada, yada, yada but it's just not worth it.  I just smile and say thank you.

And so went another great evening of dining out with my kids.  They didn't eat all that much but they really were on their best behavior.  Zoë asked several times, "Why does everyone like our family so much?"  I suppose she was perplexed as to why people were commenting on how good they were all being.  As long as she has ever known, that is just how you are expected to act in public, especially in restaurants. 

My youngest Z is 14 months old.  His very first sentence was, "Thank you."  Come to think of it, that was  Zoë's first sentence, too.  I really do have good kids.