I'm a snob!

Tonight my husband took me out to dinner. This is the first time in over 18 months. We had a wonderful table, a nice bottle of wine brought to us, and a appetizer that called Proveletta (which is essentially a baked wheel of provolone cheese and olive oil). Life was looking good. And then it happened.

In walked a family of 15 and I saw it. A stroller. Inside this stroller was a little tiny 4-5 month old baby girl. I checked the time. 8:20pm, way past baby bedtime. The little girl was just staring at the ceiling lights with glossed over eyes. My husband and I looked at each other with a "ugh, poor baby" glance.

We tried to continue our evening but all we could hear was the baby crying. Being a seasoned veteran I knew the cry was a hunger cry. Mom did too and shoved in a bottle and the restaurant was peaceful again. 20 minutes later a loud sharp cry, a tired cry. My husband I looked at each other and said, that poor child is exhausted! Why do they have her in a noisy restaurant at 9pm at night!

The mom was just pushing the stroller back and forth in an attempt to soothe the child, while shoving her appetizer in her mouth with the other hand and carrying on a conversation with the other people at the table. My husband told me to quit staring.

I exclaimed that I couldn't help it. That over-tired baby has been wailing for 15 minutes now, mom doesn't seem to care, and I can't enjoy my fish because all I hear is waa waa waa! I was so annoyed that on my first night out to dinner, it was interrupted by an inconsiderate mom and dad.

Finally, around 9:45pm, dad took the baby out of her stroller and bounced it around a bit, doing a little baby dance that finally jostled her to sleep. He set her in the stroller and pulled the shade down and mom looked relieved as she downed her second glass of wine and signaled for another.

We got our check just as the waiters gathered 'round to sing happy birthday in Portuguese to the table next to that of the baby. My expression must have said it all because when they finished, the dad looked at me with a thumbs up sign and pressed his hands to his cheek alerting me that the baby had stayed asleep. That was my queue to leave.

When another parent can see the worry on my face and feels the need to chill me out? ya, I've passed the limit. I tried my best to enjoy my dinner but half of my conversation was put on hold, dropped by losing my train of thought, thanks to the little bundle across from me. I'm not a perfect parent but my husband and I do believe in baby-sitters, especially when it comes to fine dining on a Saturday night.