Momservation: “All conversations lead back to sex and poop.” AJ Salvetti. Dear friend and expert on sex and poop.
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Shall we play a game?*
You’re on your first get-away weekend with your spouse where you’ve left the kids home alone. What is your number one concern?
- You are worried the kids will throw a party while you’re gone.
- You are worried the kids will forget to feed the dog.
- You are worried you’re going to get a phone call that starts with, “Um, there’s something you should probably know…”
- You are worried that after placing talking about the kids off limits and after 25 years of being together you will have nothing else to talk about.
If you answered A—you’re wrong. When we decided to go to San Francisco to see Billy Joel in concert at AT&T Park we farmed the kids out to sleep-overs at friends’ houses. No worries there. And, technically, we still haven’t left the kids home alone.
If you answered B—you’re wrong. It was my number two concern. (It helped that I had my dad and mother-in-law on stand-by in case both children forgot to feed the dog before they left for their sleep-overs.)
If you answered C—you’re wrong. My children would never call to give us a heads up. If something were to go down we’d walk blindsided into the sh**storm, my older son would’ve paid his baby sister $20 bucks to be the fall guy, and the future defense attorney would casually say, “Oh yeah. About that…”
If you answered D—congratulations, you are correct! And I’m guessing you got this right because you too have faced the moment of panic when you realize: “This person knows all my stories! Heard ‘em all 10 times over. I got nothin’!”
So what do you talk about when you’re starting to date your spouse again because you’re done or nearly done raising the kids?
Answer: Other people!
While waiting in line at the Swan Oyster Depot on Polk Street we whispered about the “Mom of the Year” in front of us who had slapped her kid, cussed like a sailor in front of her kids, and provided plenty of wine-swilling entertainment during our 45 minute wait for a seat (Totally worth it—the fresh seafood was amazing.)
We chuckled about our waiter at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant who gave us amazing service and free food in his delight to be serving to “a beautiful woman.” (Hubby tipped him very well—not sure if it was for his excellent taste in women or the service.)
We laughed (probably from the contact high) about the grandmas behind us at the concert who lit up their joints as soon as the lights went down.
We marveled about Billy and how old he looked, but man, that dude’s still got it going on! And boy can he assemble some amazing musicians and singers around him!
In crush to leave the concert and the mile it took to walk back to our hotel, we had more than enough fodder in all the people watching. We even talked about the best places to be a hobo in the city (Yerba Buena Gardens for sure).
So go ahead all you soon-to-be empty nesters out there. As you start putting the focus back on each other instead of the kids, I dare you to put talking about the kids off limits and see where the conversation leads you.
Just don’t talk about me…
*Bonus points for being an 80’s baby if you said the opening line like the computer from War Games.