Mornings are crazy in my house. I take a class at the gym at 5:30 every day so I am up by 4:40. The lunches are ready to go and I am out the door. I am usually back by 6:30 and together with Chip we get the kids moving. Izzy and I take our morning walk, which is now a bit brisker and the coffee is done brewing upon our return. Whew.
This morning was exceptionally crazy because it is a ‘band day’ for Jack. This means he is up earlier and his slow movements are even slower. Ugh.
Chip is running out the door with the kids and Izzy and I wave goodbye. I am ready for my coffee when I see he left his cup behind. I quickly call his cell and tell him to drive by for a pick up….I literally wait at the end of the driveway with that steaming cup of Joe and run out to make the hand off and grab a final kiss of the morning.
I do not live on a busy street except on school days between 7-9am. Then the line of cars with kids and teens staring into space while mom or dad drives slowly inches up to the stop sign. I am waiting there this morning when this trio walks up to me. I am drinking my cup of coffee with the news paper under my arm and Chip’s cup in my hand. I say to them, “I’m not selling coffee, just waiting to do the hand off like any good Italian wife would do.”
These people are I-T-A-L-I-A-N, Mario. his sister Flo and Mario’s wife who quickly proclaims that she is not Italian. (I said, ‘I’m sorry’ like my grandfather used to tell people who were not Italian.) He turns to his non-Italian wife and says, “See? that’s what you are supposed to do. This young wife gets it.”
Perhaps Mario, Perhaps Not. I do make a mean lasagna and Risotto. I do not iron his boxers or handkerchiefs like my mother and grandmother did; and I seriously think Exotic Dance is NOT on the profile of a typical Italian wife. Oh well, 2 out of 5 is not bad.
Moglie felice, la vita felice! (Happy wife, Happy life)