Why didn't we enjoy it more?

My husband and I were out to lunch yesterday - my fantabluous mother in-law babysat, yet again, so we could actually talk to one another about something other than who's not sleeping and who has a shitty diaper. During our wonderful lunch, in addition to getting wasted on exactly one and a half glasses of wine (me, not Tony), we came up with a fantasy game. Not that kind, sicko.

The game is called Five Years Ago.

The concept of the game is one day, every five years, you get to go back in time five years and spend a day in your old life. We came up with this game after saying for the ten thousandth time, "Remember when we got to do this all the time? Why didn't we enjoy it more??" "It" being have a meal in a restaurant without lugging crayons, paper, various crappy tiny plastic toys, sippy cups and wipes, have a conversation during said meal uninterrupted by requests for juice and cries of,"Where are my friiiiies?" and not have to leave a 300% tip to make up for the sea of crushed goldfish and melted vanilla ice cream left in our wake.

We decided that five years, at least for us, is the amount of time it took for us to move from one stage of our lives to the next. For example, we began our game in college and thought about all the things we didn't enjoy enough at the time. While it is enjoyable to be past the bad hair and wardrobe choices - what the hell were those cowboy shoe-boots about, anyway? - and sadly, I'm in better physical shape now after three kids than I was in college, there are so many things that were great. Partying all night and dancing to great music - "You down with OPP? Yeah, you know me!!!" - in a bar that I was definitely too young to have gotten into. Sleeping late the next morning, waking only to make it to the dining hall before it closed in order to get the life-saving combo of eggs, bacon and cheese required after a night out. And this food was cooked for you! Admittedly, it was bad food, but no effort, no dishes! Then there's spring break and summer vacation. Sure, maybe you had to get a some lame job - Hubby worked at Applebee's while I sold Precious Moments figurines and Swarovski crystal fruit at the local Hallmark store - but other than that, you were at the beach or out with your friends. You can't beat that with a stick.

If we proceed five years, we've graduated and have our first jobs and first apartments. My lord, my lord, my first apartment. It still lives in my memory as my little oasis of calm and independence. Sure, Hubby and I were still together, but I had my own place, my own money, my own schedule after having spent three tortuous months living back at home. I pictured myself as a modern day Mary Tyler Moore tossing my beret jauntily in the air on a street corner in Hoboken. I went for long runs in the mornings and shopping on Saturday afternoons before meeting Tony for dinner. Every woman should have a time like this in her life to look back on when it was all about you.

Five years further on, we get to what Hubby and I call "The Salad Days". H and I were married and starting to think about kids, but not seriously. We had an amazing apartment in Hoboken and not a care in the world. Jesus, we didn't even have the dog. We were both making good money and spending it all on food, travel and ourselves. That time in our lives is a blur of restaurants, dinner parties, long vacations and sleep. Saturdays stretched out before us like a blank canvas just waiting to be filled. I would get up "early" - 8:00! - and go to the gym while H slept in. Then I'd come back we'd fool around - during the day I tell you! - and then decide if we'd go into the city to a museum and have dinner there or spend the whole day shopping for the evening meal we'd cook at home. Either option involved much wine and the assurance that we could sleep it off the next morning then spend the day watching marathons of E! True Hollywood Story and Law & Order.

I could go on and on. Five years later we only have one child and why didn't we enjoy that? Sorry, to all the new moms, but having one infant to keep alive seems like having a purse to take care of now that I have three. My point is, we never take the time to appreciate what we have when we have it. Even though there are days now that I want to slit my wrists, I know life will only get harder with the addition of soccer games and dance recitals, not to mention the social drama that's coming as the kids get older (I will kill any bitches that screw with my daughters! H, you can handle Little Man's stuff). I will look back on these days as the simple time when my children were all babies and safe and sweet and good and my biggest worry was whether they were sleeping enough and drinking their milk. I will try to be present, I will try to enjoy this. Because,sadly, we don't get to go back.