Dear Young, Single, Clueless Girl,
I used to be you.
Early twenties, single, still partying on the weekends, just getting started on my professional life. Working in an office with people who were more established, mostly older, with families.
And, just like you, I didn’t get it.
When my coworkers would come around with pictures or stories of their kids, I would roll my eyes and sigh loudly. I was bored by their stupid stories about the funny thing Little Johnny said that day or how Little Suzie fell off of her bike just after the training wheels came off.
I barely glanced at the pictures they proudly displayed at their desks (cell phone cameras weren’t around yet, yes, I am OLD) and when they insisted that I look, I would make some snide comment like, “Yeah, it’s a baby, so what?” instead of gushing over how adorable their little munchkins were.
I thought I was terribly clever. I knew they were all totally jealous of my youth and how cute and clever I was and how fun my single life was without kids holding me down.
I didn’t want kids and I didn’t care about anybody else’s.
I thought it was totally unfair that they got to use their kids as an excuse to call in sick to work. I was bitter that I couldn’t use the same excuse. I actually had to JUSTIFY my absences while coworker-parents got to stay home and watch TV just because Little Suzie had the sniffles. It was all so unfair.
Young, Single, Clueless Girl, I know exactly how you feel because I felt that way, too. And now I am going to tell you why you’re wrong, and kind of mean, and why the people you work with don’t like you and aren’t jealous of you but just think you’re an asshole.
I’m on the Other Side now and I wish someone had opened my eyes back when I was you and shown me what a total asshole I was. I might have taken a different approach, tried to be more understanding or at least not have been so goddamned RUDE to the people I worked with. I might have started to see things from the Other Side much sooner than I actually did, and now I might be able to look back at my early twenties without wanting to cringe.
This is your chance to see the Other Side. Try to grasp it. It’s important.
For starters — I know you don’t care about my kid. I just told you, I used to be you. I know you don’t care about his first steps or new tooth or the funny little noises he makes when he sleeps. But I love that little booger so much and I’m so proud of him that I just can’t help telling stories to the nearest warm body. When you roll your eyes at me it hurts my feelings, even though I used to be you, because it’s rude and insulting and that’s my KID you’re rolling your eyes about — and that just Ain’t Cool.
Also, when I show you a picture of my adorable son and you say, “Yeah, it’s a baby, so what?” I want to punch you in the face. Even though I used to be you. In fact, I kind of want to punch myself in the face for being so insensitive to my own coworkers 100 years ago.
You may not think he’s beautiful (although if you don’t you’re freakin’ BLIND) but the point is that I DO. I think he’s beautiful and wonderful and I want to share that with you. Embrace it. Appreciate it.
Imagine that you’re an artist. You take years to paint a particular picture of something that really matters to you, something you love. Day and night you’ve worked on this; the final work is your masterpiece. You bring it to the office and pass me in the hallway. You can’t help but show it to me, even though we’re not close friends and you know I’m not an art lover, still expecting me to say something like “Wow!” or “You must have worked so hard on that!” or at least “Good job!” But instead I roll my eyes and say, “Yeah, it’s a painting – so what?”
Be grateful that I am sharing it with you. Be kind and say what you think I want to hear, instead of what you think you want to say.
When my kid is sick and I have to stay home with him, I know you think I’m sitting at home watching TV and eating bon-bons while he sleeps and sniffles, and I worry about that. I worry because I don’t want anyone to have that impression of me, even if it’s Young, Single, Clueless You. I feel bad about not being at work, about other people having to pick up the slack in my absence.
On those days, I can promise you, I’m not at home eating bon-bons. In fact, I have no idea what a bon-bon actually is. Instead, I’m monitoring my son’s fever and worrying myself sick about what might be wrong with him. I’m on the phone with the doctor, using a rectal thermometer (yes, I said rectal) and cleaning up puke. Instead of watching TV, I’m holding my baby as he cries and wiping his nose as it runs. I would rather be ANYWHERE other than at home with my child sick, even at work with you.
And yet, even with the puke and the fever and the crying and the guilt and the lack of sleep and the worry, I am NOT jealous of you, Young, Single, Clueless Girl. I feel sorry for you.
As fabulous as you think your life is, you don’t get to come home to a child who squeals with joy when he sees you. You don’t get to feel his soft head on your shoulder when he rests it there in times of sleepiness. You don’t get to splash with him in the bathtub, or bask in the glow of pride when he sips from a straw for the first time or tries to feed himself with a spoon. You don’t get to feel the overwhelming sensation of pure love wash over you when you watch him climb his dad like a mountain. You don’t get to be the one he looks for when he’s fallen down and needs comfort.
I feel sorry for you because you have years ahead of you before you will be over here on the Other Side (assuming you ever make it), and during that time you will learn hard lessons, make a fool of yourself in mixed company, be shit on professionally, and have your heart broken, probably more than once.
You will worry too much about what you look like and not enough about how you treat others. You will burn bridges and lose friends and say stupid things when you’re drunk and feel guilty about it later.
If you’re lucky, you will come out of all of it a better person, taking something away from each stupid mistake and turning it into something positive for yourself.
If you’re lucky, you will find friends who forgive you for your transgressions, who will hold you together when you need them to and put you back together when you fall apart and justify your faults when you can’t and stand on your side when there is no one else.
If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone along the way to love and together you will make it work (which is NOT as easy as it sounds).
If you’re lucky, you will realize one day that having a child is a beautiful adventure and you won’t let the fear of it hold you back from the experience…
…or maybe you won’t. I make no judgments either way. Some people want kids, some don’t. Maybe you will continue feeling the way you do and you will go on to live a happy, fulfilled life without a family. Lots of people do.
Whatever you choose, whatever this crazy universe holds in store for you, I wish you the best. I really do. I hope you realize before it’s too late that what you do now will stay with you throughout your life, one way or another, and that showing kindness to others is something you will never regret.
I hope you make it over here to the Other Side with knowledge, strength, wisdom and love to show for your troubles.
But in the meantime, the next time you roll your eyes at me when I talk about my kid, I’m going to smack you in the face.
Sincerely,
Your Not-so-Young, Not-so-Single, Not-so-Clueless Coworker with the BEST BABY EVER
P.S. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Stumble it!
June 20th, 2008 at 10:48 pm
wow, this post spoke volumes to me. I feel sometimes that people don’t understand why us, as parents, love to talk about our kids. It’s because they are our lives. They are our pride and joy. To others it may not seem that their accomplishments, such as saying their first word, are great, but to us they are.
And that is so true about when our children are sick. Mothers aren’t just taking off from work to slack off. We are watching our children like hawks. We freak out every time they get a fever. Our children are our lives, but I guess sometimes it’s hard for other people to understand.
Thank you for writing this post.
MW
June 20th, 2008 at 11:39 pm
hello. I am one of these twenty-somethings you speak of… however I have great respect for mothers. Lots of people have kids where I work and I ask them all the time how they are. When my coworkers kid got some form of Staph I was really worried about her and her little boy. And when my other coworker has to bring in her little girl for meetings because she can’t get a sitter, I offer to hold her! (Keep in mind, I don’t even really like kids!) But I DO care!
I do not think my life is fabulous and I’m not pathetic. Some day I will get to your shoes when I will have babies and be just as proud. But we twenty somethings need your help to get there- not to feel sorry for us. But for the little bitches who DO roll their eyes at you- they are just dumb. Plain dumb.
Anyway- I AM new to the professional side of life and I just started a blog about that difficult transition. So in case you want to get a view of the other side (again)- check it out. catalysta.wordpress.com! Thanks for listening!
PS Not saying this because you said to… but your kid is really freakin cute. What a smile! Those 5 teeth are hilarious!
June 20th, 2008 at 11:41 pm
AND you might really like this blog too… mssinglemama.com- she’s actually someone I work with and she has a great blog about being a single mom and raising her 2 year old son.
June 21st, 2008 at 2:26 am
Yes, your son is adorable!!! Great post . . . hopefully the girl will come around over the years. I can see not “getting” it, but not why she would be rude and roll her eyes – that’s just disrespectful if you ask me.
June 21st, 2008 at 3:13 am
Hey, thanks for the visit. It’s nice to meet new people and I love POW.
I’ve always wanted children, knew that I wanted them, but I remember being annoyed that people with kids got special treatment; like going home if they’re sick, school early outs, okay now I’m remembering a little better, I was probably pretty *itchy about the whole thing
June 21st, 2008 at 4:42 am
Catalysta,
I was the same way before I had kids. I had a great respect for mothers and, before I was one, I aspired to be one. I loved to hear their stories about kids.
Bejewell:
I forgot to say but your son is nothing short of adorable!!
June 21st, 2008 at 9:15 pm
Oh, your son is ADORABLE!!!!!! How lucky are you to get to go home to that face every day?!?!
Thanks for stopping by to play POW!
June 22nd, 2008 at 10:33 am
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO cute!! I am so glad I am on the other side. Even though I miss the sleep and being able to go pee alone!
June 22nd, 2008 at 11:32 am
On my way over to have a whack at your co-worker.
And yes, that little boy of yours is insanely adorable. Who in their right mind wouldn’t enjoy seeing pics of him???? Crazy!
Love your letter though, well written!
June 22nd, 2008 at 2:05 pm
militarywifey – Thanks, glad you could relate!
calysta – You ae definitely NOT one of the twenty-somethings of whom I speak. This girl is nowhere near as mature as you are, and I don’t have to meet you face-to-face to know that. You’ve got a head start on life with an attitude like yours, I promise.
Shannon – I really wasn’t kidding when I said I would pop her in the face. I can tolerate a lot of things (well, actually that’s a lie) but I have ZERO patience for rudeness.
Anit-Supermom – Isn’t it funny how things change? My husband the Big Bean is a restaurant director and he used to give his servers a hard time if they called in sick to take care of their kids. THe other day he said he really wanted to call them up and apologize, now that we’re over here on the Other Side.
McMommy – Thanks, I love POW and I’m so glad I found it!
Carol – I’m right there with you. A nap every now and then would be nice, too. But still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything!
Leslie – Make sure you get her good. She deserves a good pop in the smacker.
Thanks everyone for visiting and for your comments! I love them!
June 22nd, 2008 at 6:56 pm
The Bean is freaking adorable so I can totally understand if you talked about him 24/7!!! The only thing I can think of (not to defend rudeness because there is no excuse for that) but I have probably been slightly guilty for not totally joining in conversations about people’s children because part of me is sad that I can’t relate – probably just a defense mechanism. (but again, i’ve neve been rude just slightly withdrawn) Also, a lot times my coworkers or friends don’t ever ask about me or my life -they only want to talk about their kids.l I love their kids like they are my own – but sometimes it would be nice if they’d ask the single girl “how was your weekend?” Having said all that – I have nothing but the greatest respect for mommies.
) It’s the best job in the world (or so I hear) 
I’m totally gonna be a “bragging about my kid” mom someday! (if given the chance)
Preach on – I love your blog!
June 23rd, 2008 at 12:04 am
What a great letter. If only she could actually read it. I have hope that this letter will be silently printed out many times and posted anonymously on many break room walls around the world.
Thanks for your comment today, and I hope you’ll come back!
– Laurie @ Foolery
p.s. My husband just went off to bed, but walked behind my chair to peek over my shoulder at all the crap I do on-line. There was the photo of your little boy (above). Chas giggled his familiar “oh what a cute, cute kid!” giggle. We don’t need words to understand each other, which is a payoff of that hard work you mentioned. Darling boy!
June 25th, 2008 at 3:15 pm
catching up on your posts and just read this one. The best part is describing all the perks that come along with having a little one; little soft, sleepy heads, big old smiles and squeals when they see you.
Sock her a good one for me, too, if you get around to it because the Just Plain Old Rudeness deserves a pop in the kisser
June 25th, 2008 at 8:02 pm
Carolina – You, again, are NOT the person I’m talking about. It’s a fair point, though, about asking her how her weekend was. Guess I should do that more often. But I won’t know because now I’ve decided that I hate her. How was YOUR weekend?
Laurie/Foolery – By all means, feel free to reprint as many of these as you want, and post them in offices all over the country. That would be awesome.
M- The head on the shoulder is one of the best feelings in the world, no? With the squeal when he sees me a very close second!!
Glad you all enjoyed it, I thought this might be a little too heartfelt compared to the totally self-absorbed smack I usually write.
And thanks for your comments on the Bean – of course I think he’s the most beautiful child that ever walked the face of the earth, but even I acknowledge that I’m just a *little* biased.
July 7th, 2008 at 1:45 am
You already know this, but your son? Is. Way. Cute.
‘Nuff said.
For the record, I was one of those snotty little 20-somethings that thought mommy’s who got to stay home w/ their sick kids were getting some kind of free vacation hours, while us Single Gals worked and slaved for a big fat ZERO.
That said, I always loved kids. Always wanted kids. And when I got one at the age of 39, lo and behold I also learned that staying home w/ a sick kid is NO picnic.
I think the idea of posting your missive above to office bulletin boards all over America is a great one, hell why stop there? Let’s post it all over the World. Or do smug single 20-somethings only exist here?
Anyway, BRAVO!
July 20th, 2008 at 10:35 pm
This is very funny, and so true. What a cutie he is! I had a clueless boss one time who asked me if I needed the WHOLE day off just cause my kid was having general anesthesia. Ummmm. Yes. Yes, I do.
Agree that your description of baby love is spot on. That’s a lucky little man! And adorable.