Domestic Goddess: The Early Years

Laurie and the jet-lagged SJG in NYC

We met Laurie and Bob in Lamaze, a million years ago.  We were the bad children in class, misbehaving and giggling during breathing exercises and terrifying videos of actual women giving birth.  If we wanted to see actual women give birth, we had only to wait a few more months to see ourselves endure hours and hours of mind-blowing pain.  According to Laurie, I was the worst offender in class.  Laurie has many interesting stories about me, dating back 24 years or so, and just between us, I'm questioning the accuracy of her memory.
Last night, the four of us had dinner at a Greek restaurant on 7th Avenue.  In between the humus and the pita and the Sangria, we revisited the days when Laurie and Bob, gifted musical comedy performers, still lived in Los Angeles, before they'd had enough of us and moved to New York in '95, their two kids in tow.  Their daughter  has already appeared on Broadway.  Our sons have appeared on the Bima.  Naturally, we did our best to exaggerate the accomplishments of Son 1 and Son 2, competitive parents that we are, but we quickly gave up.  The fact that the eldest plays the guitar and parties on the weekend, while the college boy plays drums, raps and parties most of the week, couldn't rival the talented offspring of Laurie and Bob.  Half-way through our first glass of Sangria, Laurie dusted off a story about the SJG, one she says she's told "for years and years."  Already, I was worried.  "You were over at our house and you took me aside and told me I needed to clean the sink in the bathroom because the germs were bad for the kids."  I looked at her, aghast.  "What?  That doesn't sound like me at all."  "It was you."  "I sound like a total bitch."  "No, you were really gentle about it." "There's nothing gentle about me taking you aside and telling you to clean your bathroom."  "I'm a much better housekeeper now, thanks to you."  "There is no way I did that."  "You did it, I'm positive."  "So I was a bitch."  "No, not at all."  At this point, the husbands were on to a new subject, while I was stuck at the sink.  The SJG as Domestic Goddess clashes with the Sleep-Deprived/Cranky Mother of Two image I hold dear.  "You're thinking of someone else," I said, and put my arm around Laurie.  "But you might want to clean that fork before you take another bite.  It's looking a little germy."