A Mom Responds Before Crowding You Out of Your Local Coffeeshop/Bar

by Jessica Roake

A lot of people without kids have very strong opinions about parents and babies, and they really, really want to share them! You know, like, “I can go party awesomely with other adults without hiring a babysitter anytime. Let’s talk about YOU and your offspring, because I have a lot of things to say! I’ll also post my judgement on the internet, just to make my thoughts on babies known, once and for all. For posterity. That will be helpful!” As a non-hypothetical parent who can also read, I’ve noticed that some of these opinions tend to be self-righteous / ignorant / soul-crushingly cruel, and they have at various points driven me to tears, mom support groups, and a biiiiit of a drinking problem. But the time for support groups is over (I still need the wine), and the time for battle is here. I have some opinions too, my friends, and mine are bolstered by almost inhuman levels of hormones and righteousness forged in the fires of childbirth.

1. Cease and desist with the whole “My neighborhood has been ruined by yuppie parents who overrun the streets with strollers and bring their babies into bars” thing.

I know it’s hard to be a super-legit young urbanite, living in an area that was totally cool before being gentrified (because you grew up here, right?), the kind of person who — and I’m just spitballing here:

a. went to RISD/Brown/Oberlin/“School in Cambridge”;

b. now works at a gallery/website/non-profit (mostly on Tumblr/Twitter);

c. goes to readings for small presses/shows for obscure Danish bands/your coke dealer’s gallery openings;

d. makes art/writing/music before an overwhelming sense of failure and self-loathing necessitates whiskey/rye & rosemary cocktails/cheap canned beer in dark, super-authentic dive bars (with great jukeboxes); and

e. sleeps drunkenly with inappropriate/unavailable friends and/or random strangers who get your cultural references/share your vital stats/haircut/jeans before writing/receiving overly long morning-after emails/texts about not being ready for commitment blah, blah, blah.

Is that a terribly hackneyed cliche? Sorry! But yes, cultural stereotype to cultural stereotype, put me in my place for leaving the house in search of adult human contact and conversation with a stroller for my child who cannot walk yet, when I should just be inside, alone, staring at my yellow wallpaper. On the bar front, there are two ways to approach this problem: either make nice and buy the baby a drink, or just get right up into that baby’s face and yell at that baby until he/she feels properly shamed and leaves your private drinking establishment.

2. Stop calling people with kids “the worst.”

A lot of times, people will say, “Why are some parents the worst,” you know, like, “Why are my friends who can’t go a night without talking about the wonders of their little crapdoll so predictably boring and parent-y now when they used to be so cool, like, did all adult conversational ability exit my friend’s vagina with the baby?” But you put ALL parents on notice, by extension positing that ALL people who have produced offspring in THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD are the worst (I completely agree, re: your mom). An interesting position that can be explained thusly: “people with kids” are really tired, they can’t just “go out and get a drink” without three weeks of babysitter planning, and, you know, frankly, your life isn’t that interesting to them, and they are judging you CONSTANTLY.

3. Pregnant ladies are not “smug.”

Pregnant ladies are filled with LIFE FORCE, an energy so profound and positive that it could literally transform the world with its power. It is hard to really understand — unless you have felt Gaea’s blood-sugar-sex-magick so fully inhabit your body WHICH YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVEN’T — the beauty of what we (who have been blessed by the Goddess) call the “great dance” of pregnancy. So what you misconstrue as “smugness” is actually just the 100% justified inner peace that comes from knowing that all hope for harmony, life, and mankind itself resides within a pregnant lady’s blessed-be uterus. Or/Also: pregnant ladies are filled with hormones & anxiety & delusions & gas, which sometimes looks a little like smugness.

4. There is no sinister conspiracy to make of you a breeder.

Here is why your friends with kids are always “pressuring” you to start birthing: because plaaaaaaay daaaaates! Because it would be great if you could do “brunch” at the IHOP at 7:45 a.m! Because “hanging out” could mean sitting on a couch with beers/wine/booze (WE WON’T JUDGE EACH OTHER!) while the kids play, accepting that all conversations will be interrupted 42 times for conflict resolution/pottytalk! Because they won’t have to explain how long it takes to get a babysitter, or why noisy chain restaurants that give out crayons are the coolest, or why there are many, many stains on their sweat pants (which you will no longer make fun of, because you get it). People with kids want their friends to join the club so they can share their secret language with you! But I don’t know you, nor do I care about whether or not you choose to procreate. Really, there’s no secret petition going around, no big underground campaign — don’t have kids if you don’t want them! I respect that, I really do. Because that means less competition at our No. 1 choice cooperative Waldorf preschool (fingers crossed!).

5. Don’t compare your dog/cat to my child.

Did you labor with your puppy for 28 hours? Did you go through an exhaustive and nearly bankrupting adoption process with your kitty? Did your fertility struggles challenge your ability to have your bunny? Did any of these animals come out of your vagina? Yes, yes, you love your animals, I love my animals too, shut up Dr. PETA. It is not the same, and no one with a child is like, “Oh thank God, YOU GET IT” when someone with a pet likens changing diapers at four in the morning to housetraining a Boston Terrier.

Jessica Roake has a BABY, and when she isn’t playing trains and ruining your favorite places, she tweets and blogs.

Photo via Cornichon