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In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.

In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.

To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Baby in a Bar?

Ok, I am the first to admit, when it comes to...well, everything...Montana just has different rules.  When I was a kid, I grew up playing pool with the other kids in the back room of Buck's Bar.  It was just what you did.  After Dad was done with his basketball games, we would all get a pizza and hang out.  At a bar.  There was nothing weird about it and it was perfectly socially (and legally) acceptable.

Originally (brilliantly) posted on the
blog "Laughter Minute"
February 2009
Well, I'm seeing that things are a bit different in Chicago.  Or maybe times are different.  Regardless, the whole "baby in a bar" issue is not only highly scrutinized (from my experience) it is also hotly debated.  Who knew.  Case in point:  last weekend my mom and I were hungry after a rousing Gymboree class and some shopping.  So, naturally (to us), we stopped into the bar across the street from my house.  It's a nice, classy place with dark wood, great food, and TVs.  It just so happens that the NCAA Men's Tournament is going on, so there were a handful of people in there watching the early games.  We excitedly sat down at the remaining booth, plopped the kid on the table so he could watch the games and eat tots (the tater kind, of course--not pushing canibalism), and excitedly ordered two beers.  And then we noticed the stares from the table of 30-something (and I'm being generous) guys next to us.  They were appalled.  At first I assumed I was being paranoid, but then we heard the barely-masked comments.  "Really?  A baby?  This is a bar...."  Oh, crap, I had thought it was a car dealership.  It was NOON.  And he was quiet and very content with his first bite of taters that were cooked in delicious grease (my poor parenting when it comes to food is a topic for another day).  But these guys weren't alone.  We were pariahs.  So we quickly finished our beers and ran from the joint.

I was mortified.  WAS I a horrible parent for taking a child into a bar on a Saturday afternoon?  It was something I hadn't even considered as taboo.  Was it my own upbringing?  Or is it something more than public opinion on propriety?  I suddenly remembered an article I had read a while back on CNN.  There has been a big uproar in New York regarding this very topic. And I admit, the article makes me see (1) that it's not a merely puritanical view of how best to raise a kid that gives rise to objections, and (2) I may see the point of those opposed to the idea.  http://articles.cnn.com/2010-03-02/living/brooklyn.babies.in.bars_1_bars-stroller-babies?_s=PM:LIVING.  Our bars are our refuge.  They are a place to quintessentially "be" an "adult."  By definition.  So I do understand the uproar.  I guess I'll just chalk it up to yet another thing that didn't cross my mind as a parent.  And I'll just teach the baby to go get me a beer at home.  No worries.
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