A Household Word: Chips and Flushes

By Carol Band

My husband likes to watch professional poker on television. Not me. Frankly, I think that watching people play cards is about as exciting as watching the shower curtain mildew. Maybe it's because the only card game I know how to play is Go Fish or maybe it's because the only flushes I deal with usually involve a plunger. It could be that watching poker holds no thrills for me because all my chips are on the good china or maybe it's because as a mom, I'm betting all day long.

For instance: I can buy healthy soy hot dogs instead of regular beef ones but what are the odds that my kids will eat 'em? Or I can let my son stay home with 99-degree fever or send him to school and risk having the school nurse call me to fetch him in an hour. It's a gamble. Sure, I don't ante up any cash, but everyday is still a high stakes game.

The deal begins when the alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. I turn off the beep ... beep … beep and bet that I can close my eyes for five more minutes. This is risky business. Oversleeping - even 15 minutes - can mean the difference between my kid making the bus or me having to drive to the middle school in my pajamas; packing a sandwich on whole wheat bread or shelling out $2.50 so he can fill up on French fries and chocolate milk in the school cafeteria. It's a gamble that makes the World Series of Poker look like church basement bingo.

Odds are, if we're running late, that's the morning that Lewis will have to print out a book report, need to get a permission slip signed or announce that he's got to have $9.75 in exact change for a field trip to the sewage treatment plant. You can bet that nobody will be able to find a clean pair of socks or the sneakers that fit or will remember where they left their backpacks. While we are frantically rummaging through the laundry hamper for not-too-dirty socks, my neighbor will call to say that our dog is running loose down the street. While I'm on the phone, the cat will decide that this is a good time to hack up a hairball. Later, I will step on the cat hack with my bare feet. I'll put money on it.

When I stop at the grocery store, chances are if I haven't brushed my teeth or I'm still wearing my pajamas under my jacket, I will run into an old boyfriend or a mom who now has a glamorous job and a reason to wear heels in the supermarket at 9 a.m. Then, while I'm standing in the Express Lane (12 items or less), it's a sure bet that the person in front of me will have 37 items and need a price check or will pay in pennies or try to take out a mortgage.

Later, when it's time to make dinner I'll bet the pot that no matter what I cook - chicken or spaghetti or curried ostrich, my husband will come home and say "I had that for lunch." Maybe it's time to cash in my chips.