Experience Trumps All

"The words printed here are concepts. You must go through the experiences."
--Unknown, though attributed (possibly incorrectly) to Saint Augustine

This quote has really stuck with me. It is true beyond belief, even in its simplicity.

Writers put words down on paper and on computer screens daily. Those words are read by others who, often, don't have much knowledge of the writer's background. In essence, it is entirely possible for a writer to compose an entire diatribe on something s/he has no personal experience to back up.

Take for example a writer, sans children, who chooses to write about the horrible job being done by those of us who actually have kids.

Childless Writer concept: Children are easy to control.

Parent concept: Yes. When they are made of plastic and only pee when you put a bitty bottle in their mouth that doesn't even really have "milk" in it.

Childless Writer concept: Any parent worth their weight can control their children.

Parent concept: True. Given the exact proper dosage of Benadryl and a good bed in which to place the body.

Childless Writer concept: Any parent who can't control their child shouldn't have had children unless they were willing to put in the work to do a good job parenting.

Parent concept: Hypothetically, yes.

But no body told me that my children would have the lung capacity of sperm whales and the ability to scream until glass in other countries began to shake violently.

No body warned me that my children would have distinct personalities and, just when I figured out how to parent numero uno, that number two would respond to the exact opposite type of parenting.

Number three? (WAIT! There's a third? Did we leave him in the Nissan?) He's receiving a conglomeration of parenting from lessons learned with one/two, lessons that MIGHT might work if the wind is blowing due south and the temperature is exactly 89.6 degrees.

Honey, I work at parenting. I just get no paycheck, no sick leave, no bonus, and no lunch break. Unless you consider stealing bread crust from a used PB&J sandwich a "mid-day hiatus".

Childless Writer concept: Parents should avoid restaurants until their children reach an age where they won't disturb other patrons.

Parent concept: True. Were it not for the fact day after day of nothing but hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and apple sauce can make someone a little homicidal.

Besides, Black-Eyed Pea pours a mean glass of wine and since Daddy automatically gets designated driver status because he's been at work all day, Momma can cut loose with a $5 drinky-poo. And not worry about cleaning up the dishes either.

Further, why are you wasting your time in "family friendly" restaurants when you are single/married without kids and can afford to blow major coin on the five-star joint up the street? Please. This is our sacred cow, Childless Writer person! Get your own.

Childless Writer concept: Giving stink-eye to the family with the over-ripe diapered infant and screaming two-year-old is going to help them understand "You are not welcome here. Go home."

Parent concept: When I see you looking at me all crazy-eyed, I go into Mommy mode. I begin to think:

"Now is the time for a LESSON! In baseball. Someday, maybe you'll play for the Rangers, junior. So, let's start developing those throwing skills NOW. See that table over there, the one with the woman who looks like she combed her hair today and doesn't have throw-up on her shirt? See the roll here? Take that roll and throw it like you mean it."

The more stink-eye you give, the less inclined I am to change that diaper or try to quell the screaming. The stress that look sends my way causes me to feel and do things I wouldn't normally do. Like order dessert or a third drink.

Dearest Childless Writer: Your day is coming. You will find yourself eagerly awaiting that little, pink bundle of joy. And the first time s/he poos green, seaweed stank that you can hardly believe didn't come from a barfing alien, then you'll know.

You'll know.

And, all the Mommy's in the restaurant, with our cute, umbrellaed drinks? We'll just smile at you, raise our glasses in salute, and say a silent prayer for your sanity to outlast your parenting years.