One of the joys-slash-curses of being an expectant parent is those nuggets of unsolicited advice you get from family, friends, and perfect strangers.
Most of the time, they’re actually warnings. “Sleep all you can now!” people tell you, when what they really mean is, “You’ll soon weep at the memories of lazing around in bed on the weekends.”
But no one ever warns you that you’ve seen your last good brunch for a decade or more, do they? It’s something you’d never think to cherish.
Recently, I witnessed a few child-free twentysomethings complaining about brunch on Twitter. “Brunch is the worst,” these ingrates said, as they commiserated over the hassle of waiting for their hungover friends to wake up (presumably in the late morning); the food’s being “just okay”; and how drinking at breakfast results in needing to nap—and then your whole day is shot.
Oh. My. Gawd. Cry me a river of spicy Bloody Marys.
Here’s my perspective on these “problems”: You get to make a game-time decision to hang out with your friends (who are sleeping till late morning!). Then someone makes you a pretty decent breakfast. At which you get to drink bubbly. After which you get to take a nap and waste the entire day.
Other complaints: Brunch is too late in the morning to wait for that first cup of coffee, the waits for a table are interminable, and other diners act obnoxious.
It dawned on me that this is a classic life paradox. Child-free people don’t appreciate brunch because they’re not doing it right—and they won’t learn how to do it right (and therefore appreciate it) until they have kids.
So please heed these tips from a grizzled old mom who only occasionally gets to escape her kids.
First of all, going to places with waits is a deplorable waste of precious mimosa-drinking time. Identify brunch spots that take reservations, or are underrated and therefore don’t have lines.
Second, drink your morning allotment of coffee at home, in accordance with two essential life rules: 1. Never rely on a restaurant to provide satisfactory coffee; and 2. Never put yourself in the position of choosing between ordering coffee or a Bloody Mary.
Finally, write the rest of the day off in advance. Forget about going to Bed Bath & Beyond, working out, or whatever constructive activity you thought was a good use of a Sunday. You know what Sundays are for? Mimosas and naps.
Order the bottomless mimosa, then come home and nap on your couch, and try—just try, I beg you—to recognize how glorious it is that your nap is not polluted by the Disney Channel’s babbling child stars and laugh tracks peppered by your own kids’ whining about how they’re bored.
Oh, and about those obnoxious other diners. Sorry about that. It’s just that we moms so rarely get a day pass.