The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell

by Heather Balog

  Well, I had assumed there was, but I wasn’t quite sure. “Yes, Allie,” I reply evenly. I don’t even know how to address her. I need to talk to Roger before I flip out. I must remain calm, act natural... “Can you dump the diaper in his diaper pail?”

  “Ewww, no!” she yelps, wrinkling up her entire face in disgust now. “Have you seen my cell phone?” she asks, with an accusatory tone to her voice. Maybe she’s already on to me. I am debating my options when she catches sight of her phone that I tossed aside when the poster child for birth control wandered in.

  She snatches up the phone and holds it close to her chest. “What’s it doing in here?” she inquires in what I would definitely categorize as an accusatory tone. She punches her code into the phone, examines the screen for a second and then shrieks, “MOTHER!!!! You were reading my text messages!”

  I have no idea how she knows this, so I attempt to feign innocence as I squirt dish liquid on Evan’s bare bottom. At the same time, I glance around, wondering what I am going to wash him with. This is one of the problems with having too many children. I can never concentrate on any one task fully and completely since I am constantly being assaulted with one crisis after another. I grab a paper towel and moisten it in a fit of desperation. Needless to say, Evan does not like the rough paper cleaning his tushie.

  “Mother,” Allie continues to huff as she taps her toe impatiently and Evan howls like a drowning cat directly into my eardrum. “I can’t believe you violated my privacy. I can’t believe you disrespected me like that. I can’t believe-”

  I cut her off mid litany since I am done rinsing off the baby. “Can you hand me a clean dish towel?”

  She makes a vomitus teen face. “Ewww, gross! We dry dishes with that!”

  “No, I dry dishes with that,” I correct her. “And of course, I’m going to wash it after I dry him.”

  I’m thinking that her face must be permanently frozen with the smelling shit expression because it doesn’t go away as she hands me a blue dishtowel with happy little geese all over it. “I’m pissed off, MOTHER,” she reiterates as she crosses her arms over her chest. “You violated my privacy. That’s like, against my second amendment rights.”

  “That’s the right to bear arms,” I mutter as I buff the baby with the towel.

  Allie rolls her eyes. “It’s October, MOTHER. Nobody runs around with bare arms in October. They don’t even sell sleeveless in the stores.” She scoffs before she adds, “Really.”

  My God, your father was a history major, Allie! How did I raise such a moron?

  “Democracy starts at the curb, my dear,” I remind her of Roger’s favorite saying as I head upstairs to re-diaper and clothe Evan. I notice Misty is sniffing at the dirty diaper that is still sitting in the living room. I groan, hoping she won’t try to eat it. Right now it will have to wait, though. If I leave Evan diaperless for too long, my house will smell like crap and pee.

  Allie trails after me. “You’re really unfair, you know that?” Her voice is rising several octaves as she follows me into Evan’s room. I am clenching my teeth together, trying not to erupt like a volcano. I can only remain calm for so long, you know.

  I plop the baby down on the changing table and notice that he has a lump of mashed potatoes sticking to his foot. Oops. I pluck it off before I begin the diaper wrestling match. I pull a diaper from the box and shove it under his butt as he rolls over and tries to escape. Leaning on him with one arm, I manage to tuck it between his legs. He yanks out a clump of my hair as I attempted to secure the tabs on the side.

  Allie continues to berate me, not even offering assistance. “What do you think? I’m doing drugs or something? Like, don’t you trust me?” Exactly, Allie, I don’t trust you. I know you’re lying to me! Your texts prove you’re doing drugs!

  But I keep my mouth shut as I tug Evan’s onsie over his head and attempt to snap it at the bottom.

  “Victoria’s mother doesn’t check her cell phone,” Allie remarks spitefully. “She trusts Victoria.”

  I’ve been insulted by my teenaged daughter before. I’ve been screamed at, spit on, cursed at, stomped at and ignored. But for some inexplicable reason, today, I have reached my breaking point. At the mention of Victoria’s name and what Victoria’s mother did or didn’t do, makes me go absolutely ballistic.

  I set the baby on the floor, completely ignoring the fact that his snaps are done wrong and I poke my finger at my daughter’s chest. “Oh I guess Victoria’s mother is perfect, huh? I guess that’s why she has a perfect daughter who is participating in criminal activity? And getting my daughter involved?”

  Allie gasps and turns bright red. Didn’t think I go back two weeks, did you, Al? Busted.

  I don’t even let her speak, not that she looks like she is able to at the moment. “If that’s the case then, I’m glad I’m nothing like Victoria’s mother because I don’t want my daughter to be anything like Victoria!”

  “I can’t…I don’t…”Allie stammers.

  That probably would have been enough, but I had to push the barrel over the edge of the cliff. “So guess what? You won’t be seeing your precious Victoria after school anymore!”

  “WHAT?” Allie screeches. “You can’t do that!”

  I laugh. I can’t? How amusing. She must be new. “Oh, yes I can. And I will! And what’s more, I’m going to block her number from your phone!” I cross my arms over my chest triumphantly.

  “No you can’t! I’ll run away if you don’t let me see Victoria!” Allie screams while she stomps her foot.

  Lexie appears in the doorway looking as pale as a ghost, vomit on her shirt, hair matted against her sweaty face. “Mommy?”

  “Not now, Lexie,” I snap, not moving my glowering eyes from my older daughter’s face.

  “But I think I’m done throwing up. Can you make me some tea and toast?”

  “In a minute, Lexie. I’m busy right now. Allie, give me your phone,” I demand as I hold my palm out.

  “Over my dead body,” Allie replies.

  “Ha! Don’t tempt me,” I laugh.

  With her usual streak of defiance, she shoves the phone into her bra.

  “Really, Allie? You think I won’t go get it?” I remark, raising my eyebrow.

  “That’s sick,” she spits out. “You’re sick.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to be sick.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Lexie moans as she dashes back into the bathroom.

  “I don’t know what your problem is. I don’t know why you think that Victoria-”

  “I read your texts, Allie! I saw what Victoria said!”

  Allie turns bright red. “I didn’t do it! Only Victoria!”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m supposed to believe you after what I read? Maybe I should reiterate. How’s this?” I clear my throat before beginning to speak in Victoria’s annoying nasally twang. “I’ve got the goods if you want me to bring them to your house.” Then I switch to Allie’s higher pitched voice. “Yeah my mom should be out this afternoon.” I raise my eyebrow and narrow my eyes at my daughter. “Would you like me to go on?”

  Allie swallows hard. “I don’t see what the problem is! It’s not like I did it!”

  “You keep saying that, but I’m finding it very difficult to believe.”

  Allie rolls her eyes as usual. “It’s not really a big deal. Everybody does it!”

  “Oh really. Name me one adult that ‘does it’,” I remark while using air quotes.

  “The neighbor,” Allie smirks. “At the mall. In fact, that’s who encouraged Victoria to do it the first time.”

  My cheeks feel numb. Jason is doing drugs! And getting teenaged girls hooked on them!

  I am momentarily rendered speechless as I hear a car door slam outside.

  At the same time, Colt runs into the room, flings Evan’s closet door open and closes himself inside. Evan, who has been happily playing on his floor this whole time, is suddenly intrigue
d with his brother’s whereabouts. He expertly rises to his feet and toddles over to the closet door, banging impatiently on it.

  “Go away, Evan!” Colt calls out. “I’m hiding.”

  “Who are you hiding from?” I ask while counting the other children in my head. One, two in here, number three in the bathroom… He can’t possibly be playing hide and go seek with an imaginary friend, can he? Isn’t six too old for imaginary friends?

  “Daddy’s gonna kill me!” comes his muffled wail. Oh that’s right. The whole suspended from school incident. In the midst of everything that has transpired with his siblings in the last hour, I completely forgot Colt has been suspended. And Roger is home.

  I chew on my lip apprehensively. I don’t want to tell Roger about Allie quite yet. (This qualifies as Mistake #6 because had I discussed it with Roger and we spoke with Allie about it together, we may have been able to put the whole thing to rest before I made subsequent Mistake #7.)

  “Helloooooo!” I hear Roger step into the living room. “Why does it smell like a dirty diaper down…oh dear Lord, Misty, no!”

  “Can you get that diaper, Roger?” I call back sweetly. “I’m in the middle of reprimanding our daughter.”

  “I can’t hear you!” Roger replies, the sound of his voice fading. What a liar!

  “Don’t you dare go into your man cave, Roger!” I threaten. “I need some help here!”

  Silence. Son of a bitch.

  I point to Allie and growl, “Don’t move.” I stomp down the steps. “And watch your brothers!” I add as an afterthought. I storm into the man cave just as Roger is kicking off his shoes. “Don’t you dare sit down,” I roar.

  He sighs as he runs his hand over his practically bald head. “Listen, Amy, I had a rough…”

  “Don’t you dare tell me you had a rough day! I had a rough day, too and it involves your children so get your ass out of that f’ing chair before I have the garbage men come and take it tomorrow while you’re at work!”

  Roger stares at me like I have officially lost it. Maybe I have. Who knows? Thirteen years of stay at home motherhood and a husband who is as useless as tits on a bullfrog can do that to a girl.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Roger challenges. Of course, all he cares about is his precious chair.

  I put my hands on my hips and assume a rebellious attitude. “Try me.”

  Grumbling, he shoves his smelly feet back into his loafers and follows me out of the room. The diaper is still in the middle of the living room, completely abandoned by the dog. I guess it was even too disgusting for Misty. I bend down and wrap it up and toss it in the garbage. I also notice that Evan’s poop filled clothes are next to the couch.

  “I’ll take care of this. I need you to go upstairs to the bathroom and check on Lexie. She’s sick. Oh, and don’t talk to Colt about being suspended yet. We need to do that together. He’s scared of you.”

  “Damn right he should be scared of me. You know how embarrassing it is to get a phone call from another principal telling you that your son has been in a fight and he needs to be suspended?” Roger growls. He had obviously forgotten all about Colt’s incident at school and my mentioning it reawakened his anger.

  “Really, Roger? This isn’t about you,” I point out as I scoop up Evan’s discarded clothing and head down the stairs. I really need a laundry chute; it would make my life a little easier. Oh well, I guess jogging up and down three flights of stairs helps keep me from blowing up like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade balloon, I muse as I jog down to the laundry room off of the garage. Roger follows me.

  “It is about me, Amy. I’m a pillar of-”

  “The community,” I cut him off. “I’ve heard.” A pillar who can’t even keep an eye on his own teenaged daughter when she’s within spitting distance the entire school day. I am seething inside because Roger has managed to make this about himself until I realize that I haven’t told him what I’ve discovered about Allie yet.

  “So what’s for dinner?” he asks, trailing behind me as I reenter the kitchen.

  Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh! I want to retrieve the dirty diaper from the garbage and shove it in his face. Instead, I shoot him an exasperated glare as I start to climb the stairs.

  “Does that mean we’re getting take out again?” he calls after me. “Because I’ve been in the mood for Chinese!”

  I ignore him as I stomp back upstairs. Low and behold, Allie has actually done what I told her to do for once. She is still standing in the middle of Evan’s room. Evan has abandoned banging the closet door and returned to the floor to build with his blocks. Colt is nowhere to be found, so I can only assume that he is still hiding. As an added bonus, Lexie is also sitting on the floor of Evan’s room, playing with the blocks. The very same blocks he is now sucking on. Fantastic. He’s going to be the one puking tomorrow.

  “Hi, Mommy!” Lexie calls out as she waves happily from the floor. “I’m ready for my toast and tea now!” She is wearing pajamas, but her hair is still matted to the side of her face and I’m pretty sure there is puke stuck in it.

  “That’s great, Lex,” I remark and wince as I turn away, only to find Allie feverishly texting on her phone. When she sees me, she shoves the phone back into her bra with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. I don’t care. I grip her wrist tightly and yank her from the room.

  I am DONE. I have reached my breaking point, the straw that broke the camel’s back, yada, yada, yada. Whatever cliché you prefer. And I was about to make a mountain out of a molehill. Oh yeah, here comes Mistake number…what am I up to? Seven? This is it. This is THE BIG ONE. I am going to drag Allie to confront Jason.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?” Allie demands in a whiny, high pitched voice as I drag her protesting body down the stairs. I march her over to the hall closet, grab my jacket and Allie’s, tossing hers at her face. All without letting go of her wrist.

  Roger is now standing in the living room, hands shoved into his pockets. “Yeah, where are we going? Are we going out to eat? There’s this new Thai place-”

  “Allie and I are going to take a walk and discuss girl problems and you,” I poke Roger in the chest, “are going to make Lexie some tea and toast.”

  “What?” Both Allie and Roger protest at the same time.

  “I am not going anywhere with you,” Allie screeches.

  “I don’t know how to make tea!” Roger wails. “I don’t even know where the tea is!”

  “Figure it out,” I growl at my husband as I pull on my light jacket. “Put your jacket on,” I order my daughter. “It’s chilly out there.”

  “I’m not going anywhere so it doesn’t matter,” she replies snottily, plopping down on the ground, arms crossed over her chest and legs interlocked.

  “Oh yes you are. Because if you don’t, I will march down to St. Regis Academy tomorrow morning and sign you up faster than you can say all-girls school.”

  Allie blanched. “You won’t dare.”

  “Please,” I scoffed. “Don’t test me on this one. And your father has been dying to sign you up for a nunnery since you were born. I’m pretty sure I have his full support on this one.” I glance over at Roger to see him bobbing his head enthusiastically.

  “That is true,” he tells Allie. And he doesn’t even know about the drugs yet.

  Allie leaps to her feet and dashes over to her father. “Daddy, please don’t make me go with her!”

  Roger looks lost, but he shakes his head. “I don’t even know why your mother is mad at you, but I’m sure she has her reasons, crazy as they may be.” Gee thanks, dear.

  Allie glances back and forth between us, like a deer caught in headlights. “This is so unfair!” she wails as she stamps her feet like a two year old.

  “Let’s go Sarah Bernhardt,” I mutter as I hold the door open. More like Sarah Heartburn…

  “Who?” Allie demands to know as she saunters reluctantly through the door.

  “Never mind. Let’s just go.” As I close the door I
tell Roger, “Hold the fort down, okay?” I don’t wait for his protests before I slam the door shut. “Come on, let’s go,” I order Allie as I zip up my jacket.

  I squint while glancing across the street. The light is shining in the living room window. I see Jason’s car parked on the street and my hand starts to shake. This is going to be one awkward conversation.

  Why? My inner voice challenges itself as we stride across the street. Is it because he’s dealing drugs to the neighborhood children or because he’s so hot?

  “Shut up!” I mutter, causing Allie to stare at me as we climb the front steps of the Sanders residence.

  I shoot a death glare back at her. “Oh please. When you have four kids you’ll get to have a nervous breakdown and talk to yourself, too.” She doesn’t reply, but I can tell she is rolling her eyes behind my back as I step up to the front door and ring the bell.

  Several minutes go by and there is no answer. I can see the lights and TV are on and Mary’s car in the driveway. In fact, when I peek through the front window, I catch a glimpse of the top of Mary’s head. She seems to be relaxing on the sofa.

  “Why isn’t she answering?” I mumble as I jump to get a better view of her face and maybe catch her attention.

  “Maybe she’s sleeping,” Allie replies in her usual snarky tone.

  “It’s 5:30, Allie.”

  “So what? She’s old. Old people sleep at 5:30. They have dinner at 2:00. What else is there to do after that?”

  “She is not old,” I argue in vain. She did have a point. Mary was old.

  “Why are we even here?” she whines, pretending to be all innocent. Oh you know exactly why we are here, Missy. What? Don’t want mommy to rip your drug dealer a new one?

  I wave her away. The front window is open a crack. I can clearly hear the evening news. It is cranked to a rather high volume. Maybe Mary just can’t hear the bell over the deafening sound of the TV. Oh wait, didn’t Sean say the bell was broken?

  “Mary!” I call through the window. “You hoo! Mary!”

  “Oh God,” Allie drawls as she covers her face with her hands. “Did you really just say you hoo?” she shakes her head in her hands. “You’re so mortifying, Mother.”