Ode to Chick-fil-A

Ode to Chick-fil-A

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One time I went to Chick-fil-A after a Long Day and This is Why

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Never Mind, Go With the First Title

It was about two years ago. It had been a long day. I had three children at the time: my baby girl - still small enough to be carted around in a baby-carrier, my little boy – a toddler, and my oldest daughter who was the no-longer-a-toddler-not-quite-a-big-kid-thinks-they-are-actually-the-mommy-child. It was their well-child check-up. Yes, I had scheduled all three appointments to take place at the same time in a three birds with one stone effort, whereas the birds are actually children and whereas I had no intention of throwing stones at them - not on that occasion, at least.  In my usual fashion, I arrived to the doctor’s office barely on time and we sat in the waiting room for much too long before finally being called back to see the doctor.  I was then asked a few invasive questions (Are there any smokers in your home? Is there any abuse? Does everyone wear a seatbelt? What’s your favorite color? Do you want WIC? – No, no, heck yes, green and no) and left alone in the cramped office with the promise that the doctor will be in in a few minutes, which is code for “get comfy, it will be a while.”

Eventually the doctor did come in and after shining his fancy light in my children’s ears, mouths, and nostrils, reminded me, in a tone that said “are you TRYING to kill your children,” that I was behind on vaccinations.  He proceeded to poke each of my children with a sterile syringe (full of anti-death syrup, apparently) in an attempt to make up for what I had carelessly, and probably selfishly, neglected. Let’s add this to my ever growing list of failures - right next to “Allows Children to Consume Artificially Colored and Flavored Gummy Snacks…While Listening to Non-Educational Music…In the Car…On the Way to McDonalds.” But hey, at least they are securely fastened into their weight-appropriate car seats. 

Fast forward twenty minutes and I am toting my now sore, cranky, hungry and antsy children out of the doctor’s office, and piling them back into the car along with a diaper bag, my purse, a few thousand papers and pamphlets on the importance of TIMELY vaccinations, a couple of loose toys and children’s books, and a small blanket - because, heaven-forbid that little old lady sees my baby’s feet , one of which is missing a sock, (probably now located in the toilet paper aisle at Wal-Mart) and makes a comment on what shade of purple/blue/orange and/or fuchsia those little piggies are and proceeds to “bless my poor heart” because that baby is cold. Thank you little old ladies of the world, I love you, but sometimes, a foot just loses a sock. So out we marched to our car. I made the buckles go *click,* passed out the toys and books back to their owners, and dug the pacifier out from under my baby’s bottom - dropping it on the floor of my car in the process -  and popped it into her mouth (don’t worry I licked off all the germs first, so that if infected with a horrible disease, I would subject myself to the same disease as retribution for not unbuckling, untucking, and unloading in search of boiling water). Finally, after looking through every pants, diaper bag, and purse pocket for the keys that my two-year-old had been playing with the whole time, and starting the car - which was still blaring Taylor Swift out of the speakers, I left. And I never looked back… until four to eight weeks later when I had to come back for more vaccinations – I’m not a monster. 

In the car, my children were fidgety, they were hungry and they were cranky, all of which was understandable. I was tired from all the waiting. I was hungry. And yes, I was cranky. We all needed a break. After all, apart from the occasional complaint or groan, my kids had been troopers through the whole ordeal and they deserved a small reward and I needed some carbs. So fast food it was. I thought about where we should go, what food sounded good and what I could afford with that twenty dollar bill I happened to have in my ever-empty wallet.  It didn’t take long to decide where I would go, however. I knew exactly what I needed…yup, I said needed. At that moment I needed Chick-fil-A…for one small, yet GINORMOUS reason. Did I love their crunchy chicken? Of course, but that wasn’t the reason. Did they have one of the few indoor play areas that didn’t smell like diaper and sadness? Yes, but that wasn’t the reason. Would I be able to fill several rumbly tummies with my twenty dollar budget? One chicken cobb salad, large fry, and two six piece chicken nuggets, two waters ("the baby will have the diaper-bag-milk that I’m pretty sure leaked on the extra onesie tucked beside it, and the mostly-not-stale cheerios I forgot were in there, thank you very much"), and a small coke – “that will be eighteen dollars and some change…and YES it IS my pleasure.” Budget friendly? Yes, but that is STILL not the reason, the ONE reason that I chose this particular fast food establishment. Not to hate on any other food chains. I have been to a few *cough, cough… maybe more than a few…cough, cough* with no horrible Yelp reviews resulting from my visit. But there is one reason I chose to go to Chick-fil-A over the rest - the build-up is exciting/tiring, is it not? - I picked Chick-Fil-A because I knew that after I unloaded the kids, diaper bag, purse, blanket, toys and books, that someone would be at the entrance to open the door for me. That’s it. That’s the truth. I knew that after the tiring day I had had, after feeling guilty for putting off a doctor’s visit, after watching my kiddos tear up from the pinch of a needle and waiting, so much waiting, I at least could go somewhere where someone would be waiting for me…at the door…to open it. Open wide enough for all my junk and all my kids and that it was their “pleasure” to do so. Because moms, as you have heard time after time from the strangers in the neighboring checkout line, “you sure do have your hands full.” And sometimes all you need, really, is for someone to open the door.  And a little Chick-fil-A sauce doesn’t hurt either.

Oh, and I am STILL behind on vaccinations.