Dear 20-something Childless Couple…

Hey there. Remember me from the restaurant this morning? The cheerfully harassed, heavily pregnant mother with the toddler? Yeah, that one! I just wanted you to know that I absolutely did feel the heat of your judgement, I did notice the looks, the disdain, the disapproval. I just don’t give a fuck.

You see, sweet children, while you sat there feeling all grown up for having breakfast at an adult restaurant with your (dating) partner, I was there with my family. Now, you were quite pointed and obvious, so I’m assuming you’d like some validation of your judgement and far be it from me to deny you.

So let us start at the start. Yes, my kid is a handful and young and busy and curious. And dear Lord, Yes, I still managed to get knocked up again! AND I have the chutzpah to show my face in public, crazed, hyper monkey in tow! I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s basically a monkey on speed with an attitude, but she’s also remarkably well behaved and I hope her brother shares that attribute with her. The world could use more people like that.

Oh, yeah, that moment when I used my stern voice. I’m amused this offended you so. See, the bundle of energy got a bit over energetic.  Actually, she was going straight for your handbag and she’s fucking fast and I don’t like unruly kids any more than the next person, so I brought her back in line. I believe in discipline. And as miserable as she looked for 5 seconds, she’s very far from abused…

And yes, I drag my kid around by the ankles. She thinks it’s the best game ever. Maybe, due to the fact you’re all fucking grown up now that you have breakfast dates, you no longer recognise fits of giggles for what they are. No worries, the lustre of adulthood will fade and you’ll figure it out again.

See, kids, what you may have missed during all your judgement, is that the exhausted, but happy couple of 30-something parents next to you, were also assessing you, albeit far more discreetly and with considerably less judgement. Shockingly, we were also in our early 20s once, and on breakfast dates and feeling ever so grown up. Filled with all the angst of not actually having a fucking clue, whilst being total know-it-alls. Haha. Good times.

We’ve sat opposite each other at many a table, breakfast through supper, for 10 and a half years now. Good times and bad. Quiet and rowdy. Alone, with friends, with family, and recently, with our child. We’ve shared secrets and glances and created a language all our own. And we thrive in the chaos that is the source of your judgement.

We saw you, too. We saw your seriousness, your attempt at respectability and adult decorum. We also saw how you never once truly smiled or laughed. How you didn’t seem to enjoy your food or surroundings (Maybe due to our crazed monkey). How in all your adulting, everything seemed colourless  and tasteless to you.

Kids, take it from the old pregnant lady who doesn’t seem to have her shit sorted. It’s all over-rated. Learn from the crazed monkey. Be excited about life. Giggle hysterically. Run. Smile, dear heaven, SMILE. Be a dinosaur. Enjoy your partner. I know we don’t look like we’ve “made it”, but I assure you, we have. We have love and joy and family. We’re a team, us three, going on four. And we play, hard.

Life is so much shorter than it seems when you’re 23-ish, but it’s also so much better when you stop worrying about all the adulting. Go on, try it, you might even enjoy it.

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2 Responses

  1. antheaoneill says:

    Aw… Your post gave me such joy! The older crowd appreciates the little rowdy monsters more though. Sometimes at a restaurant, I’d apologise for my kids when they get a bit loud or giggly and it’s always the older folk who say, “Don’t worry! Been there, done that and it’s such a joy to see their energy!”

    • tamarahdeejr says:

      Thanks so much Anthea. Loved going to visit the grandparents over holidays. All the folks in the retirement village kept commenting how great it was to see all the kids running around. I will admit, I never apologise for her busy-ness. I’m bad like that…

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