I wouldn't pop out two kids in close succession, to start with. And if I did, and they were ill-behaved little miscreants, I wouldn't take them out in public with a friend with her own two brats. And I wouldn't insist on having a booth, which requires having two high chairs taking up most of the aisle at the end of the table.
But, if I did, I wouldn't stay for dinner if one of the rugrats vomited all over the table the instant we sat down. If I did stay, I wouldn't be a complete pain the ass the entire time and run my server all over the place. And if my waitress was polite and smiling, on top of refills and everything else I could want, I sure as hell wouldn't leave two crumpled dollar bills on the vomit-scented, paper scrap covered, sticky table with smears and crumbs all over the seats and floor.
It's okay, I won't always be a waitress. They'll probably always be trashy bitches.