I used to write a lot more back before we had kids. And even when we had only a few kids. Now that we have four kids I have less time for writing. I blame it on the laundry. I basically don’t do anything except laundry. So even if I were to find time to write, it would only be stories about laundry and really, how much can you say about folding countless pairs of underoos and the fact that there isn’t a single matched pair of socks in the entire house?
But really, where are all the sock mates?
Anyway, sometimes I like to go back and read things I wrote back when I used to write things. And sometimes I go way back and read things I wrote back when we didn’t have any kids. That feels like another lifetime, really. What did we do with all our free time back then? I know I definitely didn’t spend enough time being thankful for how little laundry there was to do.
Anyway, here’s a little look back at what life was like when we had no kids, less laundry, more time and money to spend on going out to dinner, and more energy to expend on making up stories to tell unsuspecting wait staff…
The other day I was at Costco and the guy in front of me was buying a fifty-pound bag of dog food. He was chatting with the guy working the register and it appeared, based on what I was hearing, as though they knew each other.
As a side note, I should let you know that I eavesdrop on conversations. If you are within earshot and are having what I determine to be even a remotely interesting conversation, I will be listening. If you’re just outside of earshot and I believe you to be having an interesting conversation, I will try very hard to hear what you’re saying. This usually involves me staring at you, trying to read your lips. When this happens my husband jabs me repeatedly in the side until I stop. Because apparently staring and eavesdropping makes you a weirdo and is considered rude in most social circles. Whatever.
Anyway, these two were conversing and I was listening because I had nothing else to do as I stood in line and my husband wasn’t with me to prevent me from doing it. The cashier rings the dog food and comments, “I didn’t know you have a dog,” to which the guy in line responds, “Oh that. Nah, I just feed that to the kid.”
It was at this point that I became truly interested in the conversation. “How old is your kid?” the cashier asks. “Old enough to eat dog food,” replies the guy.
And I don’t know if this man has a wife or a girlfriend but if he does, I wished that she was there in line with him so that I could give her a hug. So I could tell her that I understand, I know what she’s feeling. I can relate.
One night recently we were eating dinner at our favorite local restaurant and asked the waitress for a box for the meat scraps. “Oh, are you taking it home to your dogs?” she asked. “No,” my husband told her, “we’re taking it home to our kid. It’s expensive to eat out so we leave the kid at home and take the scraps home for him.”
But it didn’t end there.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “the dogs get a fair shot at it too. You see, what we do is we put the food down on the floor and let the kid and the dogs all out of their cages at once. First one to the food gets to eat it. The kid usually does pretty well. Although there was the one time he was a bit slow; that’s how he lost his hand.”
Thankfully that waitress didn’t call child protective services on us. I would have had quite a time explaining to them that we do not in fact have a one handed child that we keep in a cage.
That waitress is now our regular waitress and my husband routinely tells her stories that he has made up. I am banned from talking when he starts storytelling because, well, I ruin his stories with the truth. We always tip her well.