The Invisible Parents

Before baby, I used to get a little pissy every Christmas when the cards would start rolling in and it would be just one smiling kid after another. I don’t know these kids! I want to see my friends! Same with Facebook. Thanks for the 100th photo of your child doing something mundane like using a spoon (which I know now is actually mind blowing) but can I see a photo of my MIA friend for once? I couldn’t understand why on Earth all people with kids did was post photos of their kids!

So, oh hey…I get it now (I often feel I should just title this blog “how I got everything wrong and know nothing”)

Every photo of your kid is cute. Everything he does is amazing and you want to share it with the world, or at least with his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who are all on Facebook. And you are busy, frazzled, and most likely covered in some foreign substance whether it be spit-up, snot or food. You didn’t have time to even comb your hair. You tried to take a selfie but that took about 20 tries with a squirmy kid and the lighting was just terrible and no filter is going to help. They should create a filter for moms called “Before Children” that dresses you up, does your hair and takes at least 5 years off.

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My not-so-glam selfies. I’m still in the pics…I’m just not posting them as much anymore! lol

So I understand why only every 25th photo posted has you in it. I do that now myself. But just because I understand does not mean I’m letting you Christmas card people off the hook. Go comb your hair and get in the pic dammit. As much as I actually enjoy seeing all my friend’s kids pics now, I still want to see them just as much.

Although when you guys use a spoon, I’m way less impressed.

We’ve Become Those People

My husband and I used to go out to dinner a lot. We would usually sit at the bar and spend several hours drinking wine and eating appetizers for meals. We rarely sat at a table and would just enjoy the experience of sampling food and drinks.

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Not my actual child, but you get the point

Now no more bar for us- we need a table that can fit a highchair. Also, you probably want to stick us somewhere in the back where we won’t be a nuisance. But not too far back because one of the kids may open the emergency door and set off the very loud alarm.

So last night, as I sat on the toilet at the restaurant, listening to the screeching alarm going off, I totally knew that was our table causing the commotion. We were out to dinner with friends that had two boys, 4 and 6. So I did not burst out of the bathroom worried there was some sort of actual emergency. I may have actually lingered a moment or two longer than usual, hoping the alarm would be off by the time I stepped out.

Back in before baby days, we would be at the bar, rolling eyes and laughing at the hapless parents trying to enjoy a meal and wrangle their children. Most likely thinking what a bunch of brats they were and how if we had kids they would be sitting quietly like little angels.

Bwahahahahhahahahha

Oh how the mightly have fallen…right off their barstools.