We went to Sherpa's an “Adventurers Restaurant and Bar” last night. (Sunday is our date night.) The restaurant is in an old house in downtown Boulder and is owned by Pemba Sherpa and run by Sherpas. Feeling adventurous, we decided to try the Nepalese and Tibetan food instead of the more familiar Indian offerings.
The atmosphere was nice, the service was fantastic, the food good, not blow-me-away good, but hearty and satisfying. I would definitely go there again. The atmosphere was marred only by the conversation at the next table. Not that you could really overhear it, but I was riveted.
At the next table was a mother with her grown daughter and, I believe, her son-in-law. The older woman was classic.
First I overheard her saying something like (I could hear her pretty well, but not perfectly, so this allowed me to interpret everything she said in the most unflattering light), "I mean to have someone sucking on you when they are two and they can talk about it? That's disgusting!"
Breastfeeding? Was she talking about breastfeeding?
Sure enough, she went on, "I mean your poor nipples will be down to your knees."
I felt like going over there and showing her that this was, in fact, not the case.
Then I heard her say, "I didn't let you cry enough, I will admit to that." At first I thought she was talking to her daughter about some time that she didn't allow her daughter to mourn, didn't listen enough, just jumped in to solve her problems. But then I realized with a shudder that she was talking about when her daughter was a baby. “I didn’t let you cry enough," did I hear right? Maybe she said, "I did let you cry too much," or even "I did let you cry, I will admit to that" (implying that it was not her best moment).
This was followed by the classic, unbelievable line, "But you do what you want, it's up to you, do what you think is best---what both you and Josh want." I would hope that Josh was the young child (not present) but it could have been the son-in-law, implying the child had no say whatsoever in the matter.
Well, there's support for you. That’s how you do it. Just add a “do what you want" disclaimer at the end. No problem!
The daughter behaved impeccably all evening. She used soft, dulcent tones. I said a silent cheer when I heard her order more wine. Doing what she needed to do to get through the evening, I thought.
Other pearls of wisdom from this mother included, "she really needs to go on a diet and get more exercise," "…antioxidant…” and “…yoga..." This woman was not super overweight or unfit, but she had nothing to gloat about. She knew what was best, though, that’s for sure.
I wanted to hop up and say something to the daughter like "I breastfed both my children until they were ready to stop and I don't regret a minute of it." I fantasized about confronting the woman or just tripping and spilling my wine all over her. I thought Greg and I should start a loud conversation of our own about how great the kids are and how happy we are that we didn’t let them cry, etc. I secretly prayed that the daughter had just written off a certain amount of advice from her mother after years of such bombardment. In the end, when we paid our bill, I just aimed my index finger at her words and said "pow." I am not adventurous enough.
But then there’s this blog….