A Wild Wag of a Cul-de-Sac Mom

“No, never.”

C reached for the enormous toddler beside her.

“Never? You never fought with your sisters?” I raised a skeptical brow.

Because honestly, arguing is one of the top 3 reasons sisters exist.

“Nu-uh,” she held the kid up, his fat head covering the bottom of C’s face, like a shield against the truth. “Never.”

I smiled.

“That must have been so nice for you!”

Turning back to my own daughter, I passed her the basketball.

“Here F, let’s practice passes.”

This conversation was unpleasant. And over.

Thank God.

“She’s jealous of you,” my husband said last week like it was the most obvious thing.

“Why?”

“I mean you’ve got daughters, she has four boys. A killer body, and me. Lots of things to be jealous about,” he shrugged turning back to the dishes in the sink.

“She chose to be a housewife. Not my fault,” I muttered into my tea.

And the truth is, no one is more certain of their opinions than a housewife.

And bless their hearts.

Once you give up your economic future to your husband you are in fact a glorified pet - a housekeeper and nanny, and usually not an object of strong desire for your husband who has come to take your existence for granted at best and at worst, a reminder of the financial burdens he’s tethered to.

So I have deep sympathy for these women.

But I’m always grateful to be relieved of that burden.

Minutes later, F pointed at the empty bench.

Mom and son had gone back inside. Quietly. And no one had noticed.