Today, my husband and I tried, again, to see a rated R movie. We got kicked out of the theater.
We were turned away once before. In fact, we were turned away the first time we wanted to see a movie with baby in tow. Nola was a little over a week old when we tried to see Cabin in the Woods. We were shocked when the ticket sellers told us babies weren't allowed in rated R movies. We saw Lock-Out instead (boo), because it was PG-13, and, apparently, that is okay for babies. Nola slept the whole time.
The first time, we were such new parents, and we were so shocked, we really didn't argue. I am, after all, a follower of rules and good girl at heart (despite my smartassy propensities). I am not a smooth criminal, as my husband reminds me repeatedly, and fail to even sneak into a double feature. So when they told me that my 6 day old baby couldn't see Cabin in the Woods, my first reaction was, well, I guess she's not 17.
And then I was reminded by my husband, and facebook friends (because I posted about this experience, of course. You don't keep this stuff to yourself) that parents can decide to take their children to R-rated movies. No. The movie theater's policy is that no children under the age of 6 (I think) are allowed into R movies. Not for their well-being, no no. No, apparently, people who choose to see R-rated movies do not expect to have children in the theater.
Okay, that's fair. But is my sleeping infant less disturbing, really, than a six-year-old? I think not. Do people in PG-13 movies want to be surrounded by people who are less than 13? I think not.
So I started out, feeling shamed for thinking I could lead my normal life, but I ended up fuming, and coming up with further and further-fetched scenarios involving babies and rated R movies. Baby gotta gun? In her pants. Boobs? Not a problem for babies. Seriously, babies are way better equipped for rated R than 6-year-olds.
Over time, my husband and I went back to the theater, and apparently didn't see anything rated R in the last 4 months (really, what has happened to us?), because Nola has been to at least 12 movies. And she has never uttered a peep or created a problem. She happily nurses and naps for the 90 minutes we are in the theater, and I doubt anyone even knows we have a baby with us.
But today, we thought we would go see Lawless. Oh no. Not on this manager's watch.
Here's the scene: Drew and I walk into the theater. I have Nola in the Beco baby carrier, and she is sleeping against my chest like a sweet angel. Drew has the diaper bag over his shoulder and the Boppy nursing pillow balanced on top of his shoulder, like some cheery pastel tribal armor. He tries to buy a ticket. The manager comes up and says "Are you planning to take the baby?" No. No, we were just going to leave her in the lobby while we see a movie. That's cool, right? OF COURSE WE'RE BRINGING THE BABY.
But no we're not. Not in her theater. It is 11:30 AM on Sunday, and there are literally three cars in the parking lot. But she's not about to let us take a BABY into a rated R movie. Because that would be ridiculous. I ask for complaint forms and for the phone number of someone over her in the company. I fume silently. We leave the theater and go to another theater (IPic at Bayshore--please do give them your business, because they are not baby-haters), and see another movie (it's all about showtimes and the baby timeline, friends).
So here's the lesson I draw from this scenario. Some places hate babies. Fine. My (former) hair salon hated babies, and uninvited Nola when I wanted to come in for a bang trim (thank god I called first. I would have lost my shit). So I polled my mommy friends and found a salon that is baby-friendly, which, thank god, is not code for dowdy and horrifying.
But the other lesson is this. I'm an older mom and I have a pretty significant sense of self, and I was shamed when this 20-year-old movie theater employee rejected my desire to participate in public and social culture. How do moms who are more nervous and less obnoxious than I handle this? My guess: they learn the implicit lesson. Stay at home. If you have a baby, sit your ass on a couch, and only attend events that feature cartoon characters.
I used to think it too: get a babysitter! But you know what? I don't want to, and it's not that easy. If my daughter was going to throw spaghetti in someone's face and barf in public (well...), I might not want to take her out. But she is not in that stage, and I know how to manage her (at least at the moment). And even if she was in a spaghetti-freak-out stage, does that mean she should never be seen in public? Does it mean such a child's parents should never leave the house, except for all child-approved (read: Elmo-related and barf-tastic) events? NO. But our social culture is a contradiction. We want kids to be free and creative. We oppose hours of sitting in precise rows behaving perfectly (or at least we should), UNLESS that child somehow appears in a public space that is not specifically child-approved. Then that kid better be seen and not heard.
So many of the parents I know probably shame themselved into staying at home because, prior to having their own babies, they looked annoyed when a baby dared cry at the mall, or a toddler wouldn't stay in his seat at a restaurant.
I'm fomenting a revolution. I don't want my kid to piss you off. But I don't want to be trapped at home for the next 7 years. And I don't like the implication that if you can't afford a baby-sitter, or you're not lucky enough to have family nearby , that you can't ever go do anything fun again.
And this time, I'm totally writing a letter to that theater's owner.
Perhaps I'll include my office boobie nursing sign. That I still have to make.
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