A few articles have lately started me railing against my peers with children. The first, appearing in last Sunday’s Times Style section, covered the already-old news story of the ruckus caused in Park Slope about the mommies who took exception to Union Hall’s no-strollers policy. Yes, a bar and nightclub had the gall to come right out and say that babies and their bulky vehicles were not welcome. The article is no longer online, but it contained some choice quotes from self-deluding parents who basically were saying that having babies doesn’t have to mean giving up happy hour at the local pub. Um, that’s exactly what it means, at least until your banker husband starts making enough money for you guys to afford that undocumented Guatemalan nanny you’ve always wanted. Until then, babies equal a crimped or at least profoundly altered lifestyle.

Today’s Home and Garden section continues the “I have a baby but I’m still cool, REALLY” desperation with a feature that highlights the plight of rich parents trying to perserve their sharp-edged straight-from-Design-Within-Reach decorating style without hurting their pretentiously named spawn (seriously–Harrison, Beckett, Vin, and Fia?). They’re appalled that their homes might actually betray the presence or needs of children, but they grudgingly recognize that their little prodigies might slice their heads open if their shaky first steps take them in the direction of the Noguchi coffee table.

Don’t get me wrong–I like babies and am thrilled when parents who really want them welcome them into the world. I just get frustrated when people aren’t willing to recognize that everything needs to change when they take on the responsibility of parenthood. Personally, I’m not quite ready to sacrifice cool furniture and nights out, so I’m staying out of that game until I am.