Entitled Parents, This Is For You:

It may seem lately that the blog should change its name to "I Hate Babies," but I just can't help it. Maybe it's time I come clean and fully admit that it's the parents I hate. I mean, what did babies ever do to me other than give me the occasional stink eye? I am trying to retrain my brain into knowing that it's the entitled parents who let their spawn become the center of the world.

I went to the green market this morning looking for something to make for dinner tonight. I always hear about how cool and wonderful a Farmer's Market is, but the one in my neighborhood sucks. All they ever have is fresh vegetables and fruits that come right from the farm and jars of honey and jams and shit. I have yet to see anyone selling anything remotely useful like chicken mole enchiladas, fresh tequila or Pizza Rolls. As I was making my way down the sidewalk, I noticed the people ahead of me were parting to make way for someone. "Is it a big foodie celebrity like Rachael Ray?" I wondered. "I certainly hope so, because now I can tell her what a cheap ho she is." I walked ahead to see what was going on and it was none other than some stupid ass Dad pushing his toddlers in a double-wide stroller being completely oblivious to how people were accommodating him. The stroller was huge. It's like when he went to Babies "R" Us they asked him he'd like to "super size" it and he was so used to saying yes at McDonald's, he agreed to it and ended up with a stroller almost as big as his ass. He was probably on his way to a restaurant so he could park it between his table and the server. A few years ago, I took a picture of some ladies at my job who set up their own Stroller Wall. When I first posted the picture on my blog over two years ago, I took the time to black out their faces and made the picture very small, but now I don't care:


Bitches. What is it with these strollers, can someone explain it to me? Is it a status symbol that I just don't get? Is it a way for parents to show how much money they have to spend on their children? Please tell me.

A friend called me yesterday and asked me to please write a blog post about entitled parents. Laura is a mom of two kids ages 6 and 3. I know them well, because I took care of the six year old for almost a year when she was a baby. (Yes, I was a "manny."). She called me and said she was somewhere waiting for the cab that she had ordered. It was pouring down rain and she had the foresight to call ahead for one. She did not have her kids with her. When the car arrived, a woman came up and tried to take it. Laura explained that this was the car she had called for, but what did the lady have to say about that? "Well, do you mind if I take it? I have two kids." So having two kids in your possession allows you to steal a cab from someone? In my experience some parents think it also allows them to:

• cut in line at the bank
• get their food out faster in a restaurant
• cut in line at the grocery store
• eat food in a grocery store before paying for it
• cut in line at a movie theater
• take up three extra seats on the goddamn 7 train so their fucking diaper bag has a seat while I stand
• cut in line at the bus stop
• have free reign at a department store as their kids play under the racks of clothes
• cut in line at the department store
• and about a million other things

I am over it. Laura probably let the lady take the cab because she is nice that way. You know my ass would have given that bitch a "sorry-your-kids-are getting-all-wet" look and hopped in the cab and been on my way. But that's just me: bitchy.

A word to entitled parents: get over yourself. They're kids. No big deal. You aren't the first person to bring a life into the world. Little Johnny and Suzie are the center of your world, not ours. Yours. And stop bashing processed chicken, what did it ever do to you?


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Stroller Bitches From Hell, Part 2

I served brunch on Sunday. It has been quite some time since I have had the pleasure of carrying mimosas and eggs benedict, but on Sunday I was shoved back into that world and it was not an easy transition. Brunch and I go way back. I served it for 6 years when I worked at the Marriott and then for another 18 months when I worked at VYNL. I thought I was prepared for the hot mess that is a Sunday brunch when I agreed to pick up the shift. My first table reminded me why brunch is only fun when I get to consume Bloody Mary's rather than serve them.

The restaurant opens at 11:00 AM so of course at 10:55, people start gathering at the door and cupping their hand at the window to peer inside as if that will make time move faster. Were we ready to open at 10:55? Yes, we were, but they can wait their asses outside for five more minutes while we mentally prepare ourselves. At 10:59 one of the douchebaggy types taps on the window and then taps his watch to let us know what time it was. The door was unlocked at precisely 11:00 and the hell began.

My first table was a young couple with a stroller that was bigger than a Manhattan studio apartment. I flashed back to the Stroller Bitches From Hell that I served on the Upper East Side. As per usual, the parents saw absolutely no problem with parking the baby in the only place that I was able to stand therefore rendering it near impossible to reach their table. I get it. People have kids and then they put them in strollers. What I don't get is why the stroller needs to be the size of an SUV. I was a manny (male nanny) for about a year (for real) and my baby was in the smallest stroller possible. Her mother told me she saw no sense in spending hundreds of dollars on a stroller just so it could be in the way all the time. As I pushed Lillian down the street, did I feel judged by all the other nannies because my stroller was not a Graco or a Bugaboo? Yes, a little. But on the plus side, when we went into a restaurant I didn't make the waiter do a hop, skip and a jump just to hand me a glass of water because my gigantic stroller was blocking the table. Anyhoo, the parents blocked themselves in barricading their table with their baby and stroller. So when I poured scalding hot coffee, I had to do so over their baby. When I passed plates of food, I did that over their baby too. When I cleared plates with dirty silverware, that also happened directly over their baby. They never noticed how much more difficult it was for me because all they cared about was their coffee refills. And their baby.

Later that day, I went to the coffee station only to be prevented by a double wide stroller that had been crammed into the side stand. I looked around to see who thought that was good idea. The lady at table 12 said, "Oh, we just put that there to get it out of our way." So now it's in my way, bitch. How about the next time I am filling ramekins with ketchup I just spread them out on your table so they're out of my way?

What is the solution? Do I expect people to not use strollers anymore? Of course not. But why not leave the strollers on the sidewalk and carry the baby in a papoose or baby bjorn or your arms? Or maybe the baby can take up temporary residence in the place it came from: the uterus. Just pop that baby back into the pie hole for an hour or so while you eat and when you get out of my station you can re-birth it and be on your merry way. This makes wonderful sense to me, but I can understand why some women may not want to put their baby back inside them while they eat brunch just to satisfy their Bitchy Waiter. It's only a suggestion. At the very least though, consider leaving the stroller out of the tiny restaurant that only seats 35 people. They get in the fucking way.

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