The Night the Gin Froze - Part III

Part III – Abandon

Alan laughed when Brittany blocked his meager show of affection.  They had known each other for six months prior to the trip and little of that time had spent upright.  He knew she wouldn’t be around come the New Year but he had thought they would make it back to the States.  He regretted losing her given how lovely she was to look at.  He would hang her as art in his bedroom if he could. 

Thomas was his usual concupiscent self.  Alan occasionally picked women for these trips with him in mind.  Poor Thomas still considered himself the lothario he was in college.  But Charlene would only turn a blind eye for so many before she would reel Thomas back in with one of their vehement fights. 

Happy Thanksgiving - Ode to Dysfunction

Becky: “Hi Grandma!  Happy Thanksgiving!”

Becky (louder): “I said Hi Grandma – Mom, Dad and Stanley are right behind me.”

Pots and pans are clanking.

Becky: “Grandma?  Should I bring the pie in there or put it on the sideboard.”

Bernice rounds the corner.

Bernice: “AHHH!  Who’s in my house?” 

Bernice rushes Becky with a turkey baster.

Becky: “GRANDMA NO!”

Bernice: “Oh Becky, how nice.  When did you get here?”

David: “Hi Mom.”

Bernice: “AHHHHH!” 

Another rush.

David palms her forehead.

Bernice: “David!  What a surprise.  First Becky and now you.  What brings you here?”

David: “You invited us for Thanksgiving, Mom.  Darren and Charlotte are coming too.

Sara: “What?!?  You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

David: “I didn’t want you to start in.”

Sara:  “Great.  We would have had more fun at my parents.”

David: “Your parents are dead.”

Sara: “My point stands.”

Becky: “Grandma, your house looks… beautiful.  I love your decorations.  How festive!”

Bernice: “Well, you know what they say; you can never have too many decorations.”

Sara: “Unless it’s November and you have Easter decorations up.”

David: “Mom.  Do you have any wine I could open?”

Bernice: “Of course, darling.  It’s in the pantry.”

David: “I will be right back.”

Bernice: "Stanley!  My word.  How wonderful to see you!  How’s college?”

Stanley: “I don’t go to college, Grandma.  That’s Becky.”

Bernice: “Becky.  Oh how I miss her.”

Becky: “I am right here, Grandma.”

David comes out from kitchen. Walks up to Sara

David (whispering): “Don’t go in there.”

Sara (anxiously): “What?  Why?”

David shakes his head.

Sara: “I am not eating cereal again this year.”

Becky: “The important thing is that we are all together.”

David and Sara empty their glasses and start a second.

David: “Stanley?  What the hell are you doing?”

Stanley: “I am checking out these pine cone things.”

Sara: “Leave them alone, Stanley. “

Sara: “Where is Darren?”

David: “They’re always late.”

Sara: “STANLEY!  Stop licking the pine cones.”

Stanley: “I think I’m getting stoned off of these.”

David: “You’re not getting stoned, you’re being poisoned.”

Stanley: “How do you know?”

David: “Because I made those in grammar school and they let us use toxic glue then.”

Sara: “David – call Darren.”

David (dials): “Darren?  Where the hell are you?”

Darren: “I am freezing my ass off in front of your house – where are you?”

David: “Why are you in front of my house?”

Darren: “Mom told me to come here.”

David: “Oh for Christ’s sake!  Get over here.”

Darren (to Charlotte): “Charlotte?  Get the kids in the car.  We’re going to McDonald’s”

David: “What? No – get over here…”

Sara: “Well?”

David: “They’re not coming.”

Sara: “Perfect.”

Bernice: “Well, I just checked the turkey and it looks wonderful.”

David: “You were gone for 40 minutes.’

Bernice: “I did the crosswords too.”

Sara: “Bernice, can I help at all?”

Bernice: “Oh, what a dear.  Would you mind setting the table?”

Sara looks to the set table.

Sara: “Done.”

Bernice: “Oh Sara!  What a help you are!  David, you should marry this one before she gets away.”

David: “So Mom, Darren’s not coming.”

Bernice: “Oh what a shame.”

Becky: “It’s OK.  It just means more time for us to visit!”

David and Sara groan.

Becky: “We have all these fun decorations and delicious smelling food.  We should, after all, be thankful.”

David: “Oh crap.  She’s back.”

Becky: “Who?”

David: “The holiday foghorn.”

Becky: “What?”

Sara: “Someone shoves a Christmas tree up your ass around Halloween and you bleat out holiday cheer for the next six months. “

Becky (sniffing): “Well excuse me for wanting to be a little cheerful during such a glorious season.”

David: “Where’s Mom?”

Sara: “Where’s Stanley?”

David: “I’ll take kitchen. You take guest bathroom.”

Sara: “Changing the towels out does not turn the only bathroom into a guest bathroom.”

David: (Gritting teeth): “Go find your son.”

David: “Mom?  You in here?  Mom?  Mom?”

Bernice (behind David): “yes dear?”

David: “HOLY CHRIST MOM!  You scared the hell out of me.”

Bernice: “Sorry Dear.”

David: “Can we put that cleaver down?”

Sara: “Found him.”

David: “Where?”

Sara: “He’s trying to get into your mother’s crawl space above her closet.”

David (pause): “Should we try to stop him?”

Sara shrugs.

David: “Mom?  What is that?”

Bernice (chuckles): “The gravy dear.  From last year.  I froze it.”

Sara: “Wait, we had Thanksgiving at Darren’s last year.”

Bernice: “Oh.  Maybe it is the gravy from your wedding.  That was so tasty wasn’t it?”

Sara: “You stole the gravy from our wedding?”

David to Sara: “THAT’S what’s bothering you?”

Stanley (muffed from the roof): “I FOUND HOFFA!”

David: “Becky – could you go help keep your grandmother from killing us please?”

Becky (whimpering): “Aren’t you afraid I might vomit a little joy all over the dinner?  You don’t appreciate me!”

Sara: “We bought you a Prius.  How much appreciation do you want?”

30 minutes later.

David: “I don’t know where Stanley is.  What is that smell?”

Sara (reading a Good Housekeeping from 1956): “I don’t smell anything.”

David: “Ug!  How could you not?”

Sara: “I’ve had two bottles of wine.”

Becky (coming out of the kitchen holding her nose): “Oh my God.”

David: “What is that smell?”

Becky: “I just opened the oven?”

David: “Is that the bird?”

Sara sings softly to herself.

Becky:  “I don’t think it was dead when she put it in.  She keeps calling it fluffy and says it is almost dry after its bath.”

David: “That’s it.  MOM - we have to go.  Sara is under the weather.  I am sending your police friends over again.”

Bernice (from the kitchen): “Oh!  It’s time for Sara to have the baby!  How exciting.”

David: “Everyone get in the car – NOW!”

They leave.

Stanley: “ Mom?  Dad?”

Bernice rounds the corner.

Bernice (with baster): “AAAAAHHHH!”

Stanley: “NO, GRANDMA, NO!”

Bernice:”Stanley!  My word.  How wonderful to see you!  How is college?”

Stanley: “The armadillo that lives in the attic told me to give you this.”

Stanley hands Bernice a mitten.

Bernice:  “Are you hungry?  I have so much food.”

Stanley goes to kitchen.

Stanley: “Graaaaannndddmmmaaaaa?  There’s an enormous bat in the oven singing ‘Greensleeves’!”

Bernice: “Oh!  The police are here.  Must be time for the dance.”

Bernice grabs her sweater and walks into the closet.

 

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

SMBaN - In The Club

part nine

In the Club

After ‘The Battle’ on the Mommyverse, I once again cast my net for answers and acceptance in the world of mothers.  My “How to Raise a Kid” books said to join a moms’ club so I did. 
A Moms’ Club is a support group.  You attend weekly meetings with mothers who all have children around the same age and discuss being a mom.  Usually there is a leader who may have an advanced degree in child psychology or maybe just “really, really loves kids and being a mommy!”  Unlike the Mommyverse, in a Mom’s Club I was surrounded by live moms who made sad faces and touched my shoulder.  They told me how what I said is just like their own experience.  Then they proceeded to tell me their story… for 20 minutes.  I was a new mom. I could make sad faces. And now I had mom stories.  I belonged.
This is how I joined the Judgmental Moms’ Club.  We did nothing but discuss our children’s development… and by development I mean “What my child can do and yours can’t”.  We compared various philosophies to childrearing… and by compare I mean we said mean spirited things about the women who did things differently.  We condemned television for our child’s malleable minds.  Well, unless we absolutely needed to get something done or to get a moment to ourselves or we were talking on the phone or to settle them down for bed or because we were exhausted or our soaps were on or…
We proclaimed proudly that WE knew what was best for our baby and that our mothers and sisters and grandmothers were clueless.  I was wading in the pool of popularity and all it had taken was 10 months gestation and a few stretch marks.  It didn’t take long for the cracks in the foundation of the JMC to form.   The first was when we discussed sleeping through the night. Dawn warned me about offering up this information.  But one day we were asked to go around the room, tell how long your baby slept and what was working or not working.  We were not supposed to speak until we had the Time-to-Talk Teddy Bear passed to us.  It was a rule.  When the Time-to-Talk Teddy Bear came my way, I told the group “8 hours.”  There were a gasps and a few glares. 
“Wow, what is working?”  Dr. Misty, our 23-year-old-just-earned-her-PhD leader asked.
“Uhm, I am not sure.  He just kind of started sleeping longer.”  More glares.
“Really?  Nothing different in your routine?”
“No, I don’t think so.  I mean, you know, he’s changing, you know, developmentally, but nothing more than what the books say.”  I said cautiously looking around.
“When is your last feeding at night?”  Dr. Misty asked.
“Oh, uhm, I think…”
A particularly vocal member of the group cut me off.  “What are you feeding him?”  She snarled.
I sputtered “Oh, uhm, well, you see, he was an early teether so he bit a lot and I had to…well, it hurt quite a bit…”
“Formula” she sneered.
A collective cluck came from the group.  The Time-to-Talk Teddy Bear was taken from my lap and my views on sleeping were not requested again.
Once we were talking about sitters.  Most of the moms were working up the effort to have their first sitter (although several had had their babies in daycare since they were 3 months old).  Some were even contemplating if they could trust their own parents to watch their children.  I was not asked much for my opinion these days.  However, I kept trying.  On some level, I believed that if the JMC rejected me it would be noted in some giant “Unfit Mothers” ledger that existed somewhere.  So I offered up what I thought would be helpful for some to hear.  “I have had a wonderful sitter for Logan since he was only a few months old.”
“How long had you known your sitter before she sat for you?” Dr. Misty asked.
“Oh, we met once, you know, at the interview, and then I think she came over that next week to sit.  It was wonderful.”
“Were you in the house?”  One mom asked.
“When?” I asked.
“During the first time she sat.”  She said.
“I was… out at a restaurant.”  I replied.
The group gasped.
“Oh my no!  You should never leave your children alone with a babysitter the first night.  What if something had happened?”  Someone said.
“But isn’t that why she is there, so I don’t have to be?”  I asked.
“Not the first time!”  Another barked. 
“My sister still hasn’t left the baby alone with the sitter and it’s been 5 months.”
“My step-cousin and his wife would sit in the closet while the babysitter was there.”  Another added.  Everyone nodded as if this somehow made sense.
I shrank back and looked nervously at Logan.  Seriously, why am I not getting this?
I did not renew my membership once my 6 weeks were up and my new support group members did not keep in touch. 
I asked The Mothers why their generation did not need all these groups for moms.  They said they did, but they called them “Stitch and Bitch” clubs.  Not only did they solve the world’s problems, they usually got a quilt out of it.  No one cared if their husbands were co-sharing in parenting.  Frankly, the more their husbands were out from underfoot the smoother their homes ran.  They dispensed advice like “just put some scotch on it.”  Alcohol and cigarettes were present, if not the theme of the meeting.  Membership was free and drop-ins were welcome.  Beware if you missed an evening, though, you were probably the subject of that night’s discussion.  “Stitch and Bitch’s” are no longer around.  Parenting is serious business now.  Any advice written before 1999 is null and void. 
Nate suggested I organize my own Mom’s Club.  Since I needed to meet more women in my area anyway, I took to the Mommyverse.  I posted on every site to which I belonged - “Come join other bright Moms who refuse to get sucked into today’s Parenting Vacuum”.  Well, that was what I was thinking when I posted.  I think I actually wrote something closer to, “Anyone want to join a new Mom group on the Westside?”  I got a bunch of responses –
“YYYEEESSS!!!!” 
“Wow – it’s like you were reading my mind!!!” 
“I would LOOOOOOOOOVE to join – sing (sic) me up!!!!”  
“This comes at just the right time.  I was feeling so down on myself lately – you know, like nobody gets me and that I keep messing everything up and now I feel like I have a home, a place to go.” 
This sounded like a nice gaggle of girls.  I wrote a personal message to everyone interested.  I explained how I wanted to do something different.  I said it was more of a women’s group than just a mom’s group.  I thought we would discuss all kinds of women’s issues and we would be free from criticism.  Everyone was allowed their opinion as long as no one made it personal.  The ladies were enthusiastic.  They gave me quite a few words of encouragement with an excess of vowels and exclamation points. 
Our first order of business was to introduce ourselves via email and then to set our first meeting.  The introduction was easy.  I received volumes of emails as these nine ladies divulged every fact about themselves and any thought they had ever had on parenting or marriage or women in general.  Next, we were to set the first meeting.  This proved a bit tricky: there were babysitters to obtain, schedules to consider {kids, work, husbands, etc). Once the date was set, we were forced to cancel that first meeting and reschedule 16 times.  Finally, four months after my initial posting, we were all set to meet at my house.  Light refreshments, wine and no kids – for this first meeting.  I sent out my address and phone number for the third time that week.  My kids were thrilled to be going to Der Pizza Haus with Nate.  They dragged him out the door without saying goodbye.
Two hours before the meeting I received an email from one of the group.  She was awfully sorry but she did not realize how far away I lived.  This struck me as odd since it was one of the first things we discussed.  Anyway, she would need to bow out and maybe this is not the time for her in such a group but it is a great idea and she wished us the best of luck.  Once the first excuse was made, the floodgates were opened.  The others’ excuses ranged from life’s current direction taking a different course to self image issues to pedicure emergencies.  My woman’s group had dissolved and we hadn’t once met. 

In the end, it was me and my 86 year old neighbor sipping chardonnay as she told me about how she hadn’t been able to feel the left side of her tongue in 15 years.  When my family returned, Nate pointed to our neighbor who had wet herself while asleep on the couch.   I said she was my spirit guide to womanhood and went to bed.