We’ve all heard of the hipster, and I KNOW we are all tired of their bearded faces and ‘don’t care’ attitude. But apparently there’s a new breed of millennial in town, the ‘Yuccie’. I don’t like them already. The Yuccie, or young urban creative, is a yuppie hipster hybrid with family money and a good education who has thrown aside the shackles of society and taken up a creative job in, I don’t know, natural hemp macramé weaving. And they get paid well to do it. They are too cool to be hipster, a step ahead of the pack. Call me jealous but get a boring job, like seriously.

My problem is this…I am a mom. All. Day. Long. And all these new cultural trends do is spawn cafés I would really like to go to, but can’t. Yes I appreciate cutting edge food, there’s nothing better than exciting things you’ve never tried. I am a coffee enthusiast, it fuels the tired mom-me. And I love taking inspiration from their avant-garde decor. But my kids are still little, they go where I go, and seriously there is nothing fun about watching their attempts to trash the place. These cafés are not kid friendly.

Yes some are gracious enough to provide a high chair or a dingy room masquerading as a play area, but this is how it will go down…I will enter said café feeling optimistic. There’s a queue backing out the door but I stand in it while my son tries to pull down the pretty tassel edged skirt of the lady in front of us and my toddler tries to escape from my grip by lunging himself at the floor. I persist and give my son my phone. I will get my rainbow cronut pretzel salted bagel whatever. I order chips and baby chinos as well. It’s going to be great. Once we get to our table my son proceeds to try dig up the organic veggie garden (free starters anyone?) and climb their rusted antique scale ‘decor’. The food hasn’t arrived yet so I resort to feeding them the crackers and musli bars stashed in my bag, much to the disapproval of trendy waitstaff. My son whips down his pants and pees on their tree (true story) and now I’m laughing hysterically at the reality that is motherhood. When our order finally arrives my kids have no interest in the chips that are covered in truffle infused salt and mush them onto every surface within reach before hurling them towards the floor. I gulp down my expensive now-cold coffee and take two bites of my food before getting out of there.

When I mentioned to my younger (and much trendier) cousin that I had been to a certain café on the weekend her response was ‘How did you know about that place?!’ Look once I used to be slightly interesting and did a few cool things. Once hubby and I ate what we later discovered was monkey from a pop-up restaurant in Mauritius, before there were such things as pop-up restaurants. Once we stayed up all night drinking resinated wine with diamond traders in Mykonos (don’t do it). Once we swam with baby sharks in the Maldives, no not an organised shark-cage dive, there were just sharks in the water.

It’s not that I don’t know shit anymore, it’s just that with kids sometimes it’s too damn difficult. So if you’re looking for us, for the foreseeable future at least, you’ll find us at the super-cool Macdonalds. I’ll be the one sipping cheap coffee and eating leftover chicken nuggets. Because Ronald was wearing dungarees before all of us, right?!

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