I’m not even a Christian, which I’m sure you’ve gathered from my obvious Jewiness: my love of gefilte fish, smoked salmon and smart nerdy guys in glasses. And yet…I married a WASP with a better sense of humor than I’d be sure to find on all of Match.com. So, yeah, now we have a baby, eat bagels on a regular basis and my husband once used the word meshugena (sp?) but I think he may have been funnin’ with me. So, not being a Christian you’d think I wouldn’t be overly concerned with hell. But I think I’ve found it and it’s a place that serves soup, day old pasta and salad to adults for 9 bucks and 2 year-olds eat free. What could be hellish about that, you ask? A lot.
Now that you have a child, just try to go out on a Saturday night at 5 p.m. You read that right. 5 p.m. my New Yorker friends are putting their head in the microwave right now. Yes, you can’t even go out at 5 with a toddler without experiencing huge lines and other harrowing events.
My husband, Jon and I started the afternoon taking our daughter for a walk on the Santa Monica pier for an after-nap activity. We decided to pick up our 80-year-old ex-neighbor who doesn’t have a lot of pals and is always looking for someone to hang around with to listen to him repeat old war stories.
Everything started out fine. Okay not fine. At the risk of my husband reading this, which he will and then accuse me of complaining, which I am…I had a stomachache. The kind where you think about it constantly becuase you may at any time need to duck over the rail and let that Lean Cuisine you mistakenly had for lunch fly. Plus, I was listening to story after story from the ex-neighbor which I’d heard before and trying to look polite which is hard when you don’t know what’s going to come out of your mouth after your next “mmhmmm…tell me more about your Guatamalan maid’s family and how well you treat her …..”
Finally we got off the pier and to our fancy dinner destination “Soup Plan-ning to Kill my Spirit.” Have these people ever heard of a sneeze guard? FYI look into it. After balancing a plate for the toddler who had no idea what she wanted and was going by color theme alone, we finally found a table. But it turned out the man sitting at the next table was puking his guts up into some sort of orange creamsicle goo while his wife was acting like he was paging through Newsweek – which completely ruined my husband’s appetite. he’s delicate that way. So he’s not eating, our 80-year-old neighbor is eating really slowly, the toddler is screaming in an escalating way that is making me feel that I should be taking her out of the restaurant before they start losing business not based on their menu. I did finally remove her, by the way but not before
enjoying a few bites of Splenda chocolate mousse which somehow caused an even bigger screaming fit with the child.
I took her back to the car where we proceeded to just hang out while my husband was subjected to more war stories as if his wife and daughter hadn’t just lived one of their own. Finally, they reached the car, we all came home, we let E watch TV cause that’s the great kind of parenting we practise, I read her a Hannukah about Dreidles cause we’re JEWISH dammit and because she can’t let the holidays go. Then, finally, we put her to bed. Am I having a glass of wine?