Tales from the dinner table: the trophy wife
Dear Izzy, Max, and Kate,
Sitting around the dinner table at night is important to our family. We try to sit down everynight for dinner. Sometimes it’s a simple pizza or take out, but more often it’s something that mommy has spent a stressful hour, full of crying/screaming/fighting/having her legs pulled on/having the dog trying to steal from the counter top, preparing.
You’ll appreciate the memories when you’re grown. I do.
One of the reasons we enjoy sitting around is the conversation. At your current ages it almost always turns to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask you that question a lot. I want your dreams to come true. So again last night we had that conversation.
Max, you held true to form: “I want to be a mower. A grass mower. On a tractor.”
As I usually do, I affirmed that ambition. Landscaping businesses can be lucrative and fulfilling.
Izzy, you went in depth telling us about your “artist/chef” ambition: “I’m going to open an art gallery that’s also a resteraunt.”
“That’s great, baby,” I said.
“I’ll run the place, but I’ll also be the chef.” you said. “Most of the art work will be by me too. There will be a studio attached and people can watch me paint while they eat.”
“You’re going to be busy,” I said. “Can mommy and daddy eat at your restaurant when we’re old?”
“Dad!…..I’ve got to make money, you know.”
We laughed. And I told you that you should feed your parents.
We’ve all been a little sick lately, so we allowed you to lay on the couch, Kate. While the rest of us ate dinner you reclined, covered with a blanket, sipping a children’s nutrition/protein drink. The Diva and her protein shakes. You pretty much live off of them.
“What’s Kate going to be?” you asked, Izzy.
“A trophy wife,” replied Mommy without hesitation.
“What’s a ‘trophy wife'”, you asked.
“It’s a pretty woman who stays at home, relaxes, goes shopping a lot, and lives in a mansion.” said Mommy.
I could feel it before you said it, Izzy. I knew what was coming, but I wasn’t sure how to stop it. I let it happen.
“Mom, I was going to say that sounds like you….until you got to the part about the mansion.”
Our glances darted around the table. Because we all know how hard your mommy works at home we all laughed. I considered how I might explain the difference between Mommy and a trophy wife. But I didn’t have to.
Max, you changed the subject:
“Someone eat my soup,” you said as you pushed your bowl forward. “I have to go poop.”
And with that, another dinner time came to an end.
I love you,
TRAINING: I’ve been sick so I haven’t done much lately.
Saturday: Bike 23 miles
Tuesday: nothing (hope to be back at it tomorrow!)