GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICHES

I have a friend that emailed me today with the following: "If I have to referee one more fight between these three kids, I'm gonna loose my mind!"

Boy did that bring back memories.

I asked her if she had a Grilled Cheese Sandwich moment.

She didn't. So I told her mine.

It had been another long winter and I had just left the doctors office with what seemed like the hundredth prescription for Amoxicillin, the medicine for ear aches.

My kids were 4,5,6,9 & 11 years old at that time and they seemed to pass the dreaded illness from one to another. At least they took turns.

It seemed like we traveled in a pack back then, since I couldn't ever get anyone to baby sit them on such short notice during winter break.

We were headed to a diner, as it was close to suppertime and I was beat. They had been fighting and picking at each other all day, partly because one was out of sorts, partly because they were getting hungry, and mostly because it was boring and Annoy Your Sibling was the game of the day.

They were pros at that game. At half time they would play the Let's Make Mom Pull Her Hair Out Game. That usually occurred in the evening and that’s how I knew it was time for bed. For me.

We had been ushered in and were sitting at the table waiting for the waitress to come to take our order. They were still called the politically incorrect moniker of "waitresses" back then and not "servers."

I had every intention of getting them a meatloaf dinner, or chicken, or stew, something substantial. It was my way of relieving my guilt over not being home over a hot stove.

It was a busy evening as everyone else in town had the same idea. It took a little longer than usual for the waitress to come over, and had only given us our water.

Which had been spilled several times. And salt shakers contents all over the table. And straw papers made into spit balls. And someone was whining because they were hungry. And someone else was antsy because they had to pee. For the twelfth time. Ah, the power of suggestion.

Finally I snapped. I sat straight up and made a motion with my hands, like an umpire at a ball game calling a player Youuurrrrr out!

"That's IT!" I hissed in a voice like Boris Karloff,

"You're all getting grilled cheese sandwiches. Do you hear me? Grilled Cheese Sandwiches!"

The whining stopped. Actually they stopped breathing for a minute. They were stunned beyond words.

And then it happened. One of them started to smile.

Then the other started to giggle. Then another started to cough, and before we knew it we were howling on the floor.

My kids do a mean imitation of their mother, and whenever things started to get tense as they entered the teenage years, one of them would stop, make the umpire motion and say "You're all Getting Grilled Cheese sandwiches!"

It never failed to make us stop what we're doing and laugh our butts off till we cried.

So my advice to my friend was this: Find a grilled cheese sandwich moment.

If you have kids you're going to need it.

Every now and then I think about that day and the reaction they had to my frustration. In the big picture, it was just another day of kids being kids.

I'd give anything if they were all together again, fighting and annoying the hell out of each other.

So I go to the diner and I order one for myself.

Somehow, it makes me feel a little better.