You will begin to miss many things as you make your journey through parenthood: your youth, your energy, uninterrupted conversations; weekend getaways for two; color in your hair; a cool car; your hair. The list goes on and on.
The #1 thing on my list is spare change.
There was a time when my piggy banks were full of quarters, loonies and toonies. This was before I was even married. Once the ring was placed on my finger, a subtle process began which eventually robbed me of my cash. First she (my wife) would show me some cute but totally useless item that she found at Sears or Eatons and enthusiastically, through a series of gestures and hand motions, show me where it would sit in our apartment and how it would make our life so much better. I did not notice my piggies getting lighter until much later (possibly Year Three).
Try as I might to refill said piggies, life (and my wife’s devious plans) kept getting in the way: a house, then a bigger house, then furniture to fill the house, then kids to jump on the furniture in the house, then a dog to pee on them (the furniture)(and the kids). In fact, there was a point when we were dealing with so much “life” in our house that I would come home from work and find the shell of the woman who was once my wife.
Me: “Honey, come sit on the couch with me!”
My Wife: (gasp) “C-c-can’t make it…s-s-so tired…gonna fall a-zzzzzzz”
Me: “Nice.”
Needless to say, I was so motivated to rescue my wife that I suggested (via the fatherly tactic knows as “The Ultimatum”) we start sharing the jobs in our house amongst all five inhabitants.
We came up with a list of jobs that had to be done every week in our house and who would do them: dishes cleaned, floors vacuumed, dog walked, useless items dusted, etc. Then we reached an impasse. (From the Greek “im” meaning “She won’t” and “passe” meaning “let you make a pass until you agree.”) My wife, it turns out, is of the school of thought that says: “Pay them for doing work.” (I believe at one time she was a commie.) Coming from the farm, I am at the practical and common sense end of the spectrum: I feed them; I buy them clothes and don’t usually make them sleep outside. They owe me.
Unfortunately for me and my piggies, the wife holds the trump card. It’ll be ten more years before I can start refilling.