We went to Costco today, and as we were walking in a hip-young-thing almost ran us over. She looked at us contemptuously – cigarette hanging from her lip, indie rock coming from the open car window, and I thought: just you wait…. I used to be very much like you. And look at me now.
What was she doing at Costco anyway? (Doesn’t it suck out a bit of her soul every time she goes… just like me?) Does she need 5 lbs of strawberries too? Does she need cheap organic milk or a giant box of granola bars? She’s definitely not there feeding her children free samples…. no kids in the car; I looked. Maybe she was at the liquor store next door (where are THEIR free samples?)
I started thinking about Saturdays before we had kids. When we didn’t do anything. Slept til noon. Got up, ate a little. Went back to bed. Got back up, showered, and headed out for dinner and drinks. Stayed up way too late, only to sleep in again on Sunday.
Gosh, I miss those days. Yesterday I woke up to a kid climbing in our bed because he had a nightmare. Today the same kid woke me up again to help him build a helicopter. (I wasn’t amused.)
Of course, before I had kids, I didn’t have silly string wars. Nor did I ever truly examine the life and habits of rollie-pollies (pillbugs). I never thought about the color of your light saber signifying whether you are a good or bad guy. And I had forgotten that sometimes there is nothing more comforting than a blankie and your thumb.