Shame on you

I left my house at 6:45am, before my children even woke up, drove 1.5 hours to work at a company trade show, stood for 6 solid hours, left early to get back in time to pick up my two kids from two different schools before 6pm, fed them, played and finally got them to sleep at 8:30pm.

And then I came across this post over on HuffPo: it is about a moronic 20-something (the age wasn’t given, but you can infer it from the post itself). He was complaining about a middle-aged man that was sitting on the floor of the subway working on his laptop. “How dare he!” says twenty something kid. Instead of asking the man if he could move, or even wondering aloud why he might have chosen such a strange office, the 20-something photographed him and bitched about him online.

Not surprisingly, it turns out that the man was doing it because he is simultaneously working full-time, finishing a PhD and parenting 2 children and sometimes also likes to sleep. DUH! Why else would a seemingly sane individual choose to work whenever and wherever he could?

It was one of those slap yourself upside the head moments in which I wondered if I were ever really and truly that clueless in my own younger days.

(For the record, I was.)

By the sheer virtue of being born four years earlier, I completely missed out on the joy of being a judgmental, needy, loud-mouth millennial who expects everything to revolve around them. Had my parents held off for a few more years, I too could spend my days posting and tweeting “shame on you” messages for all the world to see.

Instead, I have to work my butt off and listen to you bitch as well. Awesome.

Well Mr and Miss 20-something, I’ve had it. I think it is about time someone shines a light on your failings. So here goes:

Shame on you girlie who photographed me while I was huffing away on the stationary bike. I’m sorry my ratty t-shirt and see-thru lululemon pants offended your sensibilities. I’m sorry I decided that just getting to the gym at all was more important than trying to make my sweat look like a glow.

Shame on you hipsters who frowned upon my daughter’s bare feet. I know that it is cold outside. I’m sure that you won’t ever be in that position where you have to choose between buying food for dinner or having your kid wear shoes. But on the off chance that you, childless and clueless wonders, might just be wrong, maybe you could keep your opinions to yourself.

I look forward to the day, a few years from now, when you find yourselves in our positions….and when you realise that no one is going to wipe your nose (or butt) for you anymore. I only hope that you then have the guts to post up a photo of yourself with the caption “shame on me”.