Kids in Coffee Shops, Yes or No?

Have coffee shops become a place only for adults? That’s the question I have been asking myself ever since an incident where myself and a group of friends with our kids in tow were very unceremoniously asked to leave the back room of a local coffee shop. A shop that had recently advertised that they have a back room with toys for kids. Excuses were made as to why, but it was obvious that our group of noisy toddlers/children were not welcome.

I get it, not everyone wants to hang out with other people’s children. I understand that some places are more suited for adults only. I respect the right of any business to determine what kind of ambiance they want to have. But since when have coffee shops become so serious?

Think about it, you walk into your local coffee place and there are lots of business people with their laptops. You also spot students studying for exams and writers working on their latest project. It seems that many adults these days use these public spaces as their office. And so, it seems that the rest of us are expected to keep it down, so they can get their very important work done.

The key here is that they are public spaces. They aren’t private offices or libraries. They are meant to be places for people to gather and have a sense of community. So why is it that some people act so horrified that they have to listen to noise of children when they are in a public space?

Is it not ok to bring a small group of children into a coffee shop in the middle of the afternoon during the summer? Do people have a right to complain that children are interrupting their conference call when they chose to take the call in a public place? Since when is it unacceptable to have to be around children in the middle of the day? It’s not like we dragged them into a bar on a Saturday night.

What do you think, are coffee shops too grown up for kids?

My Best Self is Lost in the Fog

Morning begins as it always does. I am awakened by one of my children who needs something from me. Something that requires me to get out of bed. I am awake but exhausted. I get up because it's my job, I'm their Mommy. I fulfill my duty and then the lure of the bed draws me back into my room.

"Come, lay with me," the fog calls, "it's too early to get up and you need more sleep."

I don't get go back to sleep because it's time for breakfast. It's my job to feed them, so downstairs I go. The day is crazy and hectic. I am pulled in a million directions. I am asked a million questions. I fluctuate between love, joy, stress, and rage. The rage is often misplaced, but it has a need to express itself, to let itself be known. To take over and remind me who is in charge.

After the rage comes the guilt and regret. Why did I lose it? Why can't I handle everything with a cool and collected tone? What is wrong with me? Am I messing up my kids by yelling at them? I wonder what happened to me. When did I become this person? 

"Come and spend time with me," the fog beckons, "let my arms embrace and envelop you. You know it's easier to just give into me." 

I love my family. I love being in my family. I know the things I need to do to have my day go well. I am always proud of myself on the days when I've managed to keep it together. I know that the calmer I stay the better the day goes, but still sometimes that isn't enough.

I feel guilty a lot. Guilt for the things I don't get to. Guilt for the things I do but don't do joyfully. Guilt for the feeling that sometimes I just want to run away. To escape into the fog, just for a little while. To curl up in it's arms and rest for a while.

"Yes, that's a great idea," the fog whispers.

I am so tired all the time, mentally and physically. A nap in the afternoon, a few hours watching TV by myself, or a good book would all be a welcome respite. But those moments rarely happen. Most days my life is full of interruptions and requests. Things that as a Mom and a Wife I need to do, because it's my job, and because I love them.

I give all of myself, to my children, to my husband, and to my family. I give even when I feel like there is nothing left. Until my body is an empty hole. Until even an extra snack or a glass of wine can't make me feel better. That's when the fog comes back. It tempts me, it calls me, it swirls around my feet. I try to run away from it but sometimes I stumble. I stumble into the fog where sadness, anxiety, and guilt await me.

My body is lethargic from the slog. I battle everyday to free myself completely. Some days I am successful, other days I am not. I try to be my best self for everyone all the time, but sometimes I fear I have forgotten who my best self is.

Who is she? What does she want? How would her day go? These are all questions I ask myself in the abstract. Maybe the best me is still stuck in the fog. Maybe I need to go back there and see if I can find her.