To the Lady at Zoe's Kitchen...

... I saw your look. We made eye contact.

You probably noticed me wearing unflattering workout clothes intended for the workout I didn't get this morning, the dirty baseball hat, and not a stitch of makeup. Unshaven legs, tennis shoes, and a backpack with kid junk spilling out of it. Or maybe not.

You definitely noticed my daughter- the one with the piercing scream. The shriek you heard twice during the maybe 20 minutes we were sitting at the cramped table halfway across the restaurant from you. It jostled you out of your busy lunch, the one you were enjoying alone, sitting in a booth that could seat four people, on your computer, probably finishing up something important for work.

You didn't even glance up when the lady working the tables asked if she could take your plate. No acknowledgment of her standing in front of you. I'm pretty sure you didn't notice me struggling to carry two full drink cups, napkins, forks, and my wiggling child through the crowded restaurant, only to make another trip back to get a high chair- lifting it off the stack with one arm while trying not to drop my kid in the other arm. Who even notices a scraggly looking stay at home mom anyway, right?

The thing is, I was you. I would have given the same look to that mom. Why can't you control your kid? Aren't you teaching her table manners? Why can't she sit patiently for maybe five minutes until her food arrives? And hey mom- why didn't you bring a bag full of toys with you to distract her, or better yet- where is your iPad loaded with apps to ensure that your annoying brat doesn't interrupt my very important lunch? Better yet, why did you even bring your kid to a restaurant? You should just stay home until she can behave herself. I know what you were thinking when you abruptly looked up and gave a hard stare, because I've done the exact same thing.

The truth is though, that I'm not you. I would have looked up and thanked the girl working the tables for clearing my trash. I don't expect you to understand that my day started with not finishing my breakfast because my child would not stop screaming until I took her outside. 7am is just too early for screaming. I needed more sleep than I got and had the gift of menstrual cramps to go along with my half-eaten breakfast. Then the mirror installers came in the last 5 minutes of the 2-hour window I was given, which is why I wasn't able to get out and exercise before the blessed nap- the one I look forward to every day, a small break from the bargaining, explaining, offering choices, all while giving up my right to eat a regular meal or go to the restroom when I need to. I don't expect you to get that frustration.

I know you don't care that my kid is a great eater and loves being in public, which is why I decided to go out to lunch today, because it makes both of us happy and I needed to turn my day around. Start a positive trend, you know?

Except that she's been sick this week, and is growing at least 4, but probably more like 6 new teeth all at the same time. And she's testing her boundaries, wanting to assert her independence. And she's like me so she's stubborn and throws temper tantrums. I assure you, ma'am, the two shrieks you heard today were a mere fraction of the screaming I heard all morning before, and all afternoon after the look you gave me.

Now, at the end of today, the one where I threw my own tantrum and ate dinner alone at the office computer after my daughter angrily splashed her lemonade all over my foot and I lost every last marble I had, I want to make sure you know that I know where you are coming from. Parents are far to lazy these days!

The thing is this though: I had no more marbles left because I was forced to use them all up. I may have had more available if I had received an understanding look, or someone to offer to carry our drinks to the table, or even someone to smile at her and distract her from her terrible life at least until her food came. We really are a community of self centered assholes- everyone looking at their phones, ignoring human beings around them, focused on nonsense. At the end of the day, when it's all over- all you have is your connection to another person. I know I get another chance with my girl tomorrow, and I'm so grateful for that because I did not do the job I wanted to do, the job you think I should do, today.

If you need a snack, I accidentally left half of my lunch and all of my daughter's in a take out container on the table- feel free to take it with you. And I'll ask the universe to send you a nice helping of menstrual cramps for dessert.