Let Me Tell You Something by Caroline Manzo

plenty of time for you and your husband. Me time is good for the soul—and it helps save your sanity on those tough days.
    You’re not alone. There are millions out there just like you. Your kids will grow and become more responsible sooner than you think, so stop now and smell the roses. And the poop . . . and the spit-up. You’ll miss it when it’s gone!



For spoiled kids, my kids
worked their asses off.
    I’ll say it before you think it. I spoil my kids. I do. And I’m not ashamed of it. Nothing makes me happier than to treat them with something special. I’ve bought my kids cars, and they’ve always had the latest technological gadgets. If you watch the show, you may even think I give them too much. But before you judge, here’s something you might not know. While I’m the first to admit that I can overindulge them at times, as a parent, it was one of my top priorities to make sure my kids also developed a strong work ethic. Even from a young age, my kids have understood the value of hard work.
    Because Al worked such long hours, the kids were frequently at The Brownstone to visit him. It’s our family’s second home. It was clear to them that while Daddy wished he could be playing, he had to work to support the family.
    The boys started pitching in alongside their dad at The Brownstone when they were in elementary school. It really was something else to watch them. Eight-year-old Christopher was so proud of his job, polishing all the bottles at the bar for ten cents a bottle; he even made himself a business card. All the labels had to be facing forward, he kept a tab on how many bottles he polished, and if he got his count wrong, he didn’t get paid. If the bottles weren’t facing straight, no cash. It was so adorable to watch him, keeping checks and balances, acting like a little man.
    Albie was on cleanup patrol. If someone threw up he had to go mop it up. Some people said we were being harsh by giving him this job, but I didn’t see it that way. My kids are spoiled rotten, but when it comes to working hard, they don’t get any special treatment. It was important to us as parents that the boys didn’t automatically get cushy jobs just because they were the kids of the owners. We made sure that both boys had to work their way up. They started polishing bottles, then moved up to cleaning ashtrays and sweeping up cigarette butts outside. Not that they complained about it. I didn’t have to twist the boys’ arms to work. They wanted to, and they took pride in their jobs. I was such a proud mommy.
    When they proved themselves, the boys were graduated to loading trucks, working as valets, and finally managing the valet, handling hirings and firings. Once, when Christopher was managing the valet, one of the drivers hit a car in the parking lot. For insurance reasons, Christopher had to be deposed, at eighteen.
    When the insurance adjuster asked Chris to give his deposition, Chris asked if Albert would come into the questioning room with him. “Why, do I manage the valet?” Albert asked. You should have seen poor Chris’s eyes widen. But Al felt that Christopher needed to understand how serious a responsibility it was to be giving a deposition. Chris summoned the courage and did it by himself. He told the truth, he knew the facts and he stepped up and handled it like a man.
    I was incredibly proud of Christopher, because he literally worked his way to the very top. By the end of his time at The Brownstone, Chris had a desk beside his father. He wore a suit and oversaw the entire operation, just like his dad.
    Lauren worked around The Brownstone too. She didn’t do the hard manual labor that the boys did. But she checked coats, she took reservations, and then she started helping with the wedding parties. I remember once she came home and told me she’d had to put her head under a bride’s dress to fix her stockings. “