“Of course, he does. He went to high school?—”
“I’m not talking about high school.” She gives me a stern glare. “I’m talking about a higher education. How is he going to support you and your babies?”
“We’re not there yet.”
“What if the relationship evolves?” She huffs. “You have to think of those things.”
“Mom—”
“Do you think I could’ve had that many kids unless Daddy was able to support me and make sure my babies were fed?”
“I’m a trained chef. I can work and help support the household. This isn’t the sixties or even the eighties. Things have changed.”
“It’s so easy to be smug until you have a newborn and realize how much work it is.”
I’m baffled.
“I know a thing or two about working in the food industry, and let me tell you there’s nothing amusing about being pregnant out to here”—she gestures in front of her stomach—”standing on your feet all day long in a hot bustling kitchen. With the triplets, I had to stop working at some point because I couldn’t handle being on my feet for long stretches of time.”
I’ve heard that story many times before.
“If your husband—or boyfriend—is making minimum wage––”
“I don’t know how much he earns. I’ve never asked. It would be rude. You raised me better than that.”
“This is a different scenario. We’re talking about your future and the future of your children––our grandkids.”
“So, this is about you and Daddy?”
“You’re not listening, Carina.”
“I am.” I ball my fists at my side. “I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
She pinches her lips together. “The cost of living is rising fast wherever you are in this amazing country of ours. I don’t care where you live, it’s expensive. You have to think of those things. And even without asking, it’s safe to assume he doesn’t earn an executive salary. Whatever he earns, it’ll be a near pittance. When was the last time you heard of a rich farmer?”
“Jake and Hunter are rich––”
“They’re tech billionairesturnedranchers.”
“Honestly, Mom––”
“Even if you don’t have to fork out several million for an average house like you would in New York––or even Brooklyn now—you’re still looking at a life that will be nothing more than a prison sentence.” She’s on a roll. “No matter how bone tired you are after staying up all night tending to finicky babies, you’ll still have no other choice but to schlep your exhausted body out of bed and drag yourself to a job.”
Unbelievable.
This woman looks like my mom, she just doesn’t sound like her.
“Maybe I’m okay with that.” Defiance fuels my words.
“And let’s not forget, you have no extended family to help lighten your load down in small town Texas.”
“I can hire help.” It’s way too early to have this conversation, but I’m unwilling to back down.
“You are so naïve.” She rolls her eyes. “Help doesn’t have a vested interest in your children like family does. Your older brothers cherished you and cared for you when Daddy and I couldn’t because of the restaurants. Even the triplets treated you like a glass doll. I also knew you were always safe with the nonnas and your grandfathers. The same for my siblings and Dad’s. I would never have left you with a nanny or, God forbid, a babysitter. I love you too much for that.”
“Some women don’t have an extended family and have no choice, but to hire help, Mom.”
She leans back against her seat and crosses her arms, staring at me like I just responded in a foreign language. “You’re not one of those unfortunate women.”
