hypothetical diatribe

The phone rings. And let’s say that somehow, for once, you manage to answer the phone. And let’s also say that when you do, it’s not the fax machine that’s been calling your number six times a day lately; let’s say it’s a friend who informs you she, her husband, and her three boys under the age of four are coming into town for the weekend and would like to see you Friday night. Now let’s say you have a small one-bedroom apartment which – besides the usual items in an apartment – now also contains a bouncy seat, a swing, a changing table, a bassinet, a car/stroller seat, two cats in search of attention, two adults in search of sleep, and one baby in search of unconditional love and constant movement. Let’s say that the thought of adding two more adults (what they’re searching for is unknown) and three more children to this mix is a bit daunting, and while you want to be accommodating, you are struggling with the mental picture. Now, let’s say that your friend suggests a picnic dinner allowing you the opportunity to suggest that you all just meet in the park in the first place. The friend decides this is a good idea, let’s just say, since, she off-handedly remarks, there’s a cold going around among her little lovies. Oh! Yes! you agree readily then. The park!

Let’s say that on the evening of their arrival it is the end of a long week and nearing your baby’s bedtime – and, let’s be honest, YOUR bedtime. Let’s say your friends get stuck in traffic and arrive an hour late – the hour of baby meltdown – the hour of bedtime. Let’s say you briefly introduce them to your screaming child and tell them you’re going home now, it was so nice to see them. And, let’s just say that your friend offers to walk back with you to check out your apartment; and let’s say that that sounds fine with you until she grabs her sniffling seven-month-old to come along. Let’s say that the moment you enter your apartment you check your shoes because of the smell until your friend asks where she can change her precious little one. Let’s say you refrain from suggesting the sidewalk. Now let’s say that fifteen minutes pass within which time your baby manages to fall into a tentative sleep and you contemplate where you will stay while you have your home disinfected and after which time the rest of her family bursts into your tiny apartment because, well, the boys need to use the bathroom too. Let’s say the following twenty minutes while you wait for a three and four-year-old to poop and leave are the longest you’ve ever experienced. Let’s say, just for example, that you are unmoved by the gift and card for the baby your friend gives you before leaving, and the irony that oozes from your friend's comment amidst casual conversation about how now that she is a mother she evaluates friendships in a whole new way is thick as pudding, let’s just say.