Dear Fertiles

Dear Fertiles,

Why do you insist on bringing your whole brood grocery shopping?  Wouldn't it be easier if one of you stayed home with the children while the other one shopped?  It's not like one of you is keeping an eye on the children while you are both in the store.  While your rugrats are running down the aisle, pulling things off shelves, and tripping little old ladies, you two are too busy arguing over which brand of pasta to get.  One of you needs to stay home next time or else I'm taking out a kid with my cart.

Sometimes my husband and I like to go to a nice restaurant in hopes of avoiding babies on our date nights.  These are the kind of restaurants that don't even have high chairs and booster seats.  If you are going to fork out the cash to go to one of these establishments, you should probably fork out a few for a sitter too.  If you can't afford a sitter, there's a great pizza place down the road that is happy to cater to fertiles.  It really is a waste of your date night to have one person walk around the restaurant with your 10 month old while the other one eats, and then switch off every 5 minutes.  Wouldn't you like to actually sit at the same table together?  The rest of us don't enjoy watching your constant pacing and I'm sure the chef did not intend for his fabulous meal to share a table with a jar of "Mixed Vegetables and Beef."  If he did, he would probably make high chairs available for you.

Finally, when I am at church, please don't insinuate that your child pulling my hair is a great form of birth control.  I have birth control down pat.  No one thinks that your three year old's diatribe on Fr. Bill's chasuble color is cute except for you.  I'd rather listen to Fr. Bill and so would all the other people glaring at you.  Take hint. And by the way, it's your job to tell her why it's green.

I'm a but crabby today, can you tell?