DINK Envy

Ok, I admit it. I have DINK envy. What's a DINK, you ask? They are the hip, young couple living in a house big enough for a family of five. They are the people who go out to the clubs when you're going to bed. In their spare time, they do whatever they want: sleep, watch tv, have sex, did I say sleep? Yep, DINKS. Double Income No Kids. The envy of (most) parents.

Don't misunderstand me: I LOVE my babies. Although I am a young mother, I did do my fair share of living before having them. I drank and smoked pot all the way through high school and during college. I closed down many a bar. I had fun with a capital "F." The kind of fun that is a hazy purple-tinged memory the morning after.

Once I became a parent to two (because I was still partying like a rockstar with one kid), things all changed. Olie was colicky and clingy, so finding hired help was difficult. In all honesty, we didn't really try because we were afraid. We loved Olie and we were frustrated with her on an almost daily basis; we didn't want someone who didn't love her caring for her. We missed a lot of movie openings and parties and seriously curtailed our skiing fix. We surrendered to our new life, which was full with two children.

Now, five years (and another baby) later, I wonder what could've been. What would our lives look like if we had remained DINKS? I think things would have been very different. We definitely wouldn't be homeowners; we never thought about buying a house before we had kids. We were two young adults whose memories of yardwork were still too fresh. No way were we going to commit ourselves to plunging our own toilet (eww) or mowing our own lawn (did someone say 'afternoon nap?)

I guess, in some ways, becoming DIHKS launched us into adulthood, which I'm not sure is an entirely good thing. Mortgage debt, huge grocery bills and home maintenance are "perks" that we could have continued to live without. We still miss movie openings. And skiing? Um...we went once. Six years ago.

Yeah, I'm a little envious of the DINKS across the way. But, maybe, over their second or fourth mojito at Rhumba or during a game of pool at The Rack or during the drive home from the baseball game that spanned thirteen innings which they had to stay to see, DINKS dream of being DIHKS. Monkeys will now fly out of my butt.