Why Children Shouldn’t Be Allowed in Restaurants, Salons, Stores, Movie Theaters, Real Theaters, Resorts, or Public Transportation

photo1Look, moms, I get it. You have 18 kids and haven’t seen the inside of a salon in five years. Your hair is split and unhighlighted, your cuticles are nothing short of grotesque, and your eyebrows are beginning to frighten the neighbors. You decide there’s no possible way you can go on living looking like Cousin It’s hairier sibling, and decide it’s time to have some hardcore maintenance done. The problem? You’ve used up your babysitting favor-asking with every single one of your friends and family, and no one offers to watch the little nose-pickers, leaving you with what you believe is one choice: Bring the screamers along.

Sadly, you don’t have one choice. Plan B? PAY A LICENSED BABYSITTER or DONT GO AT ALL. The same goes with restaurants, stores, movie theaters, real theaters, resorts, and public transportation. No normal human being wants to go to either (a) something fun, and have it ruined by screaming children or (b) something terrible and have it worsened by screaming children.

(As I type this on a miserable NYC train ride, a 3-year-old is singing Happy Birthday because it’s the only song she knows, while her baby sister’s carriage continues to roll over my foot. Come on lady, can’t we make a deal: I don’t run over your kid with my car and you don’t run over my foot with your stroller. I think it’s super fair.)

I always hear people say that they can’t afford babysitters. But how? I’ll never understand how someone can be rich enough to get their hair and nails done, go shopping, and then go out to dinner, but then too poor to hire a babysitter for a few hours. Now, look, I’m not heartless. I don’t want you to leave the little boogers home alone, or with some weirdo that you found on Craigslist. I’m just asking you to do a little research, or call a Babysitting service with background checks and let other people do the research for you. Or you could go back to the olden days and just get a recommendation from a fellow mother. Someone at school has an awesome babysitter, and I’m sure you can track them down if you put as much effort into it as you do into bundling up your 12 kids and walking them around from place to place in this 4° weather. If I was a kid
I’d probably yell about that, too. Geez.

Don’t even get me STARTED about vacations. My boyfriend and I went to Jamaica last year, and were thrilled when we found out our resort had a Kids’ Center, which included a kiddie pool. Well…apparently these kids’ parents thought their kids has somehow graduated past this smaller pool and awesomely fun activities, because every single child in the resort was in our pool — throwing a ball around in the shallow end that had those fabulous underwater built-in tanning lounge chairs that we, of course, needed to use. To say I was hit in the face with a beach ball 10x would be a huge understatement, and to say that I wanted to punch the father who didn’t apologize but LAUGHED each time would be an even huger understatement. Huger might not be a word but I think you’re following me here. Moral of the story: Kids’ Center is for KIDS. Adult pool is for ADULTS. I’m not saying leave the kid home with grandma for the week (cough, yes I am), I’m just saying follow the damn rules (and the rules of etiquette). Or go to Disney World. (Be sure to look out for a future post: Why Children Shouldn’t Be Allowed in Disney World. Just kidding. Kind of.)

Now, for all you mothers who think your kids are just the bees knees, and are outraged by this post, I’ll leave you with this: Assuming you’re telling the truth (which you may not be because, after all, doesn’t it fall into the category of everyone thinking their own kid is cute even when it looks like King Kong?), then this post is not for you. I am not against adorable, quiet, well-behaved children. I’m also not against Hershey’s Kisses with Almonds falling from the sky, but both seem to be lovely fiction. However, if you’re lucky enough to have a non-crying baby or a low-key kid, then sure, bring ‘em out, sit next to my table, and “Shhh” my ass for being too loud and disturbing your awesome kid while he quietly recites poetry.