P,
You have an amazing ability to filter out "the rest of the story" while gracing my abode with your presence. Did you notice, while you were here, that my nine year old son was demanding I allow him to download Eminem on his iPod or my seven year old princess whining that her life was ruined by the entrance of another girl in the family? Surely you couldn’t have missed the four year old attached just below my neck. He was eyeing baby’s access to my breast in a suspicious and disappointed fashion, much like hubby now does.
I confess I appreciate the cherubs’ feelings of displacement as I am, as yet, most days unable to call each of them by the appropriate name on the first try. As an only child, I only assumed those in large families were having more fun. Why didn’t I ever ask? What I find most interesting is how few of my contemporaries in D.C. seemed to have followed a similar path of chaos. I’m afraid they seem to think nurturing the individual is terribly important. My own Midwestern upbringing suggested seeking this kind of attention for oneself was just bad form, an idea I foster with my own offspring and marriage partner, if not myself.
I do suppose I decided to have number four, however, as a way to distinguish myself on the East Coast. It has become readily apparent in the last year that none of my lovely offspring may be either the brightest or most talented of their private school classmates. But they will have come from a large brood. As college admission discussions by the parents of children in my daughter’s second grade class revolve around finding a passion as an admittance strategy, I believe I have given them all a cause: not getting lost in the crowd. Do hope this is enough.
So while you’re concerned about the tedium of your current existence, and I try to pretend my youngest is my only child, I think we should focus instead upon that which we can control: our own limited opportunities for pleasure. As soon as the au pair emerges from her lair to take over for too few hours, I’m popping down to whisk you away for a mani/pedicure, telling her, of course, that I have an important client meeting. Any objections?
Faithfully,
C.
