I get it. When I was in my early twenties and mildly cocky in my childless parenting knowledge, I too was the "I'm never going to use a tablet" childless mom … I was going to teach my child "manners."
**insert eye roll and laughing here**
But you know what? Times have changed. Today when eating at a Mexican restaurant with my barely 1-year-old son and husband, we lasted about 75% through lunch with toys and snacks before I whipped out the old Amazon Fire tablet and put on Bubble Guppies.
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But I saw you, Deborah.
I saw your razor blade eyes from a table away. With your "I need to speak to a manager" hair … you RADIATED "I didn't need that when I raised my kids" from your middle-aged soul.
Don't worry. I saw you. And your butthole puckered lips staring at me.
Like somehow you thought your stares would influence me in to your higher reckoning of parenting.
But you know what Debbie?
Imma' do what I have to do to drink my noon-on-Sunday margarita without my little terrorist tearing down this restaurant with his tiny infant hands.
I get it … you were the perfect parent. Somehow in the age of no car seats and lead-based painted cribs you raised superior humans. All hail the 1970s mom.
I get that in your mind, my infant's tablet – THAT'S MUTED – bothers you more than the damn mariachi music being blasted in this Mexican restaurant.
I don't know if your issues with me are based on anger or jealousy that you didn't have this fished-themed infant mind control when you were raising your horrid little humans.
But this is my PSA to 50-something-year-old women like you:
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry. My son who isn't even old enough to not crap his pants can't just sit through an hour long lunch and that I just want to drink my MOTHER EFFING JESUS-PRAISE-DAY MARGARITA IN PEACE!
Mind your own table, Debbie.
I'm doing my best here.
This post originally appeared on Kaylin Maree Schimpf's Facebook page and was republished with permission.
