My wife and I are what someone in 2009 might call “foodies.” Our styles differ; she’s a look-at-the-menu-before-we-get-there person, I like to be surprised. Together, we are an excellent dining out team. As a known person who hates spending money on anything, shelling out cash on a worthwhile restaurant is one of the few financial transactions that doesn’t physically pain me.

Gong on three years into having children, our dining out experiences have been fundamentally altered. Here’s some ways going out to eat has changed with the kiddos in tow.

Without Kids:
Steve raves about this place and he’s always on point with restaurant recs. The reviews are also pretty fantastic. A little pricier than I’d like, but fair for the quality of experience we’ll probably have. Afterwards, since the world and night are our oyster, we could hit up the cocktail bar down the block. I better make a reservation now.

With Kids:
Is the restaurant less than a 10 minute drive away? Do we have reason to believe attempting to eat there won’t take several years off our lives?

Without Kids:
I guess I’ll just put on a new shirt and some deodorant. If I put too much on though my wife will probably make fun of me.

With Kids:
Ok, do we have Cookie Monster? The etch-a-sketch? We should probably bring goldfish just in case. And the bibs. Oh yea, and obviously the diaper bag. I think it’s stocked with diapers but I think we’re almost out of wipes. Ah no, something spilled in the diaper bag. I hope it’s just applesauce…

Without Kids:
This place is kind of dead. Maybe it’ll get a little more crowded as the meal goes on? People must come here later. It is a Spanish restaurant after all.

With Kids:
It’s completely empty. Thank God.

Without
Look at these mason jars and candle displays. And this painting…wow! I’m no decorator, but this is pretty cool. I wonder how much this all cost. How do restaurant finances work when it comes to this stuff? It’s gotta be a fortune. I guess they’ve calculated that this well help them recoup the initial investment? Or is it just a vanity thing from a silent investor? Is this why the lamb kebabs are $41?

With Kids:
If there is anything made of glass on the table, the lone thread that is holding me together will instantly unravel.

Without Kids:
This server is way too on top of us. I get that they want to turn over our table, but we’ve been here for 5 minutes. Give us a second.

With Kids:
If we don’t order every single thing the first time the server comes around, we may as well sentence ourselves to prison.

Without Kids:
I can’t believe that they’re charging $22 dollars for a cocktail, and we’re dumb enough to get two each. Whatever. I assume it’s no longer cool to say YOLO, but YOLO.

With Kids:
I guess it makes sense that half a grilled cheese sandwich costs $12.

Without Kids:
I never should have taken this friend to this place. He is the worst tipper and it’s going to reflect poorly on me. Although I guess better than taking my dad. Who knows what he’d say to the server.

With Kids:
Now that she’s spilled water all over the table, populated the entire floor beneath us with Mac-and-cheese crumbs, and is ripping up napkins and throwing them, I guess there’s really nothing to do but completely let go. I must remember that at some point in the future, we will no longer be at this restaurant.

Without Kids:
The food was incredible and they really knew how to pace our meal. Also, I think we nailed it with our orders. That tempura was unreal. We’ve gotta come back, I can’t wait to try the rest of the menu. Life is pretty cool.

With Kids:
Wow, they were so good. I can’t believe they sat still pretty much the whole time. The food was mediocre at best, but who cares? We’ve gotta come back. You know, every now and then life isn’t too bad.