Play It Again, SAHM

by Meredith Efken

  To: SAHM I Am

  Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW November 16: Will My Children Hate Me?

  MY children had better adore me by the time this week is over! It’s Courtney’s birthday party on Saturday. She’s turning ten, and we decided to have a fairy party for her. She just about ruined the whole thing a couple weeks back by blabbing to her friend. This friend went and told her parents—so we were inches away from a repeat of the Ashley Limo Party disaster. We bribed the parents to not steal our idea by Frank offering to do a FREE family photo session for them. And let me tell you—that was a sacrifice on his part. I dare you to try to find a more unphotogenic family!

  Okay so we’re doing this fairy party, right? Y’all should SEE the boxes of stuff arriving in our basement. Tulle netting, giant silk flowers, yards of ivy garland, chicken wire, brown and green fabric, landscaping stones, and bunches of other stuff. We’re creating a woodland fairyland in our basement—complete with child-size fairy hideaways and houses, and special lighting and even a waterfall!!!

  The girls will have a sleepover down there, and there will be a scavenger hunt for fairy treasure, including a ton of party favors, and hidden treats to eat. We’re inviting ten girls (since Courtney is turning ten) and I hired a local seamstress to create a unique fairy costume for each one. We’re also having a makeup artist come in to do fairy makeup on each girl. And then Frank is going to photograph the entire thing so each girl has their own “fairy foto” in a special frame.

  Doesn’t that all sound like fun? Courtney is SO excited. I think she was a tad bit envious after Ashley’s party—got her panties in a twist over how elaborate Sis’s party was, and convinced she was going to get shortchanged for her party. We had to do a TON of convincing and planning to reassure her. It’s all costing a pretty penny, though. I had no idea all that floral fabric stuff could be so expensive!

  But I DO believe in fairies! Especially ones that help me keep the title “Queen of Birthday Parties” around here.

  Veronica

  From: Hannah Farrell

  To: SAHM I Am

  Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW November 16: Will My Children Hate Me?

  Oooooh!!! I LOVE fairy stuff!!! I wish I could go to that party, Veronica. It sounds fab-u-licious! Only, except, I would be so much older than everyone else. Well, except you, of course.

  I have a fairy collection. In fact, before we found out Boaz was a boy, I was going to do my nursery in fairies. Maybe I still will if I get to have a girl next. Bradley thinks I should get over liking fairies. But I don’t think anyone is ever too old to enjoy fairy tales. I often like to dream that I’m the fairy princess in the story. I’m sure you all like doing stuff like that, too, right?

  Hannah

  From: Brenna L

  To: “Green Eggs and Ham”

  Subject: Re: [SAHM I AM] TOTW November 16: Will My Children Hate Me?

  Hannah Farrell wrote:

  < I often like to dream that I’m the fairy princess in the story. I’m sure you all like doing stuff like that, too, right?>

  Yes, my fairy tale would include the fairy princess locked in a tower, babysitting my children until her hair grows long enough for her precious Bradley to climb up it and release her. By which date, I will have saved up enough money to buy my own tropical island where a resort full of staff will cater to my every desire and where my husband will have nothing to do but give me massages and take me shopping.

  Hey, it’s MY fairy tale, after all!

  Brenna

  From: Rosalyn Ebberly

  To: Shelley Dalton

  Subject: Christmas presents?

  Dear Shelley,

  Sorry to bother you again, but I had a question…do you think part of the reason my children are so resentful is because we haven’t always gotten them the same number of Christmas presents? We always try to spend about the same money on each child, but we sometimes get one child several less-expensive presents while another one gets one big one. And I was just thinking that maybe they are subconsciously assuming that if they didn’t get as many presents as their siblings, that means that we don’t love them as much.

  Not that I’m trying to psychoanalyze them or anything! (That’s YOUR job, LOL!) But I was just going through the gifts we have put away for this year (I finished my shopping in August) and wondering if we ought to return any of them or add some to make it more even.

  For example, last year we got Suzannah her very own prayer journal and a donation to a children’s relief fund in her name. She seemed unhappy about those things, and I thought maybe she was jealous because we got Jefferson a whole set of math flash cards and workbooks, as well as new socks and a contribution to his college savings fund. And I thought maybe he was envious of Abigail’s presents of new bedsheets, photos of her grandparents, and the picture dictionary and spelling cards we got her. Abigail was only five, so she couldn’t have been jealous of anyone. After all, kids that young just like opening the packages!

  So what do you think? Should we do the same number of gifts for everyone? That should make them happier, right?

  Rosalyn

  “The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands.” Proverbs 14:1 (NASB)

  Text Message From Dulcie Huckleberry: For Tom Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:32 p.m.——

  Cn u also pick up some antibiotic ointment at the store? Rosie just bit MacKenzie again. Thxs.

  Text Message From Tom Huckleberry: For Dulcie Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:33 p.m.——

  Sure. Why Rosie bite her? Resents his pink rhinestone collar?

  Text Message From Dulcie Huckleberry: For Tom Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:34 p.m.——

  Mac dressed him in doll clothes again. Poor thing had on a pink sparkle princess doll dress. Final straw—caught Mac trying to tie tiara to cat’s head with yarn. Rosie had enough n bit her.

  Text Message From Tom Huckleberry: For Dulcie Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:34 p.m.——

  Smart kitten.

  Text Message From Dulcie Huckleberry: For Tom Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:35 p.m.——

  Don’t encourage him! He has 2 learn 2 deal w/ the girls. Can’t nip at them jst bc they treat him like a doll. Needs to accept his lot in life.

  Text Message From Tom Huckleberry: For Dulcie Huckleberry

  ——November 17/6:36 p.m.——

  I feel sorry for the poor thing. I identify w/ him.

  Instant Message

  JocelynM: Hey Z, I’m glad I caught you online. Got a minute?

  ZeeMuzzy: anything for you, babe. how r u?

  JocelynM: “r u”? Hannah must be rubbing off on you.

  ZeeMuzzy: u no it! LOL! lk rtng n code.

  JocelynM: Ugh! Too much effort to decipher.

  ZeeMuzzy: so what’s up?

  JocelynM: Well, first I wanted to see how the kids were doing. They any better?

  ZeeMuzzy: a little. the specialist we’re seeing has been really helpful. but it’s going to take time. we should have gotten them in sooner, but we just didn’t know we needed professional help with it.

  JocelynM: No use beating yourself up over it. I’m glad things are getting better.

  ZeeMuzzy: me too.

  JocelynM: Second, I wanted to talk to you about the retreat workshops.

  ZeeMuzzy: hey, that’s great! i was wondering how that was going. listen, i’ve been thinking about the workshop ideas i gave you. i even spent some time last week making a slide presentation on my computer for them.

  JocelynM: Wow. And we haven’t even scheduled them yet.

  ZeeMuzzy: yeah, i know. but i figured might as well, since i’m best friends with the gal planning the whole shindig. gotta do you proud, right?

  JocelynM: That
’s sweet, Z. But

  ZeeMuzzy: i was also thinking of some activities we could do to make it more “hands-on.”

  JocelynM: Z, wait.

  ZeeMuzzy: what?

  JocelynM: Well, we had a lot of people give us great workshop ideas.

  ZeeMuzzy: oh? so you probably can’t let me do more than one, huh? that’s cool. i understand. which one do you want?

  JocelynM: Actually, not everybody can do a workshop—we just don’t have enough time or room.

  ZeeMuzzy: that’s tough. i guess you’re the lucky one that gets to deliver the bad news to them?

  JocelynM: Yeah. And you know I don’t enjoy disappointing anyone.

  ZeeMuzzy: i know. you like to keep everyone happy. you’ve got a big heart, joc-girl. JocelynM: Thanks. But that makes it really hard.

  ZeeMuzzy: well, you can count on my shoulder to cry on if you need it.

  JocelynM: You are sweet, too. Which is why I hate to tell you this…

  ZeeMuzzy: tell me what?

  JocelynM: We’re not going to be able to have you do any workshops. I’m sorry Z.

  JocelynM: Z?

  JocelynM: Z, are you still online?

  ZeeMuzzy: wow. i feel stupid.

  JocelynM: No…don’t. It’s really cool that you were so excited about it.

  ZeeMuzzy: was there something wrong with my ideas? or is this because of me and rosalyn?

  JocelynM: Neither. We just felt like some of the other workshops would appeal to more people.

  ZeeMuzzy: don’t sugar-coat this, jocelyn. ros blackballed me, didn’t she?

  JocelynM: NO! She wouldn’t do that. You don’t know her, Z. You think you do—just like I did. But she’s not like that at all.

  ZeeMuzzy: i can’t believe this. i worked really hard on those workshops! i was planning to do them other places, like church or mom groups, if they went well.

  JocelynM: No reason why you can’t still do that.

  ZeeMuzzy: a bit hard to get my foot in the door in those places without prior experience. i figured with you doing the schedule, i’d have a better shot this way. “women’s retreat speaker” would have given me some street-cred, you know?

  JocelynM: I’m sorry. Really. Maybe next year.

  ZeeMuzzy: yeah. maybe. you SURE this has nothing to do with ros?

  JocelynM: Positive. Are you going to be okay?

  ZeeMuzzy: me? you’re friends with shrink-girl, and you’re asking ME that question?

  JocelynM: Look, Z, this rotten attitude toward Rosalyn is getting really old. It’s not funny anymore.

  ZeeMuzzy: i wasn’t aware it was ever funny. what happened was not funny. I didn’t realize you were laughing about it like it was some joke.

  JocelynM: That’s not what I meant. Nobody was laughing about it. But in all our years of snarking about Ros, none of us ever took it seriously. This is different, and I’m concerned about you.

  ZeeMuzzy: i’ll be fine. you’d better save your worries for your big retreat.

  JocelynM: You’ll still come, won’t you? It wouldn’t be the same without you.

  ZeeMuzzy: sure. wouldn’t miss the Rosalyn ‘N Jocelyn show for anything.

  From: Dulcie Huckleberry

  To: SAHM I Am

  Subject: [SAHM I AM] Cat problems

  Hi girls,

  Got a problem—we recently adopted a kitten. MacKenzie, our six-year-old, helped pick him out. His name is Rosie (yeah, it’s a girl’s name…get over it, it’s just a cat). Mac and the twins just adore him. We’ve tried to keep them from “loving” him too much, but the poor thing can’t hardly walk two feet without being scooped up. And half the time, he skulks around, tripping over the shirt or dress the girls have put him in.

  Their newest game is to dress him in a nightgown and strap him in the doll stroller. Tom and I are trying to make sure this doesn’t happen, but we can’t keep an eye on them all the time. And just when we turn our backs, we hear this little mewing sound, and sure enough, the little thing has been roped into playing “house” with our girls.

  Problem is, he’s started nipping and scratching them. I don’t entirely blame him—after all, he’s got to defend himself somehow. But it’s becoming a bad habit.

  He dive-bombs the girls when they walk by and tries to bite their ankles. He’s so small, he hasn’t been able to do too much damage yet. But he’s growing fast!

  Any ideas of what I should do?

  Dulcie

  Instant Message

  ZeeMuzzy: get a pit bull.

  Dulcet: What?

  ZeeMuzzy: to help with the cat.

  Dulcet: And—dare I ask—how in the world is a pit bull going to help with the cat?

  ZeeMuzzy: in a cat’s mind, i’m sure playing dress up with three little girls has GOT to be a better option than playing chew-toy with a pit bull.

  Dulcet: I think the cats of the world should be glad they don’t live at your house, dear friend. :)

  ZeeMuzzy: oh definitely. some days I would be glad not to live at my house.

  Dulcet: I hear you on that! Hey…speaking of the cat, I hear it mewing. Better go check…brb.

  ZeeMuzzy: sure.

  (Dulcet is idle.)

  ZeeMuzzy: dulcie, I have to go. email me later. hope everything is ok.

  ZeeMuzzy signed off at 4:28:32 p.m.

  From: Dulcie Huckleberry

  To: SAHM I Am

  Subject: [SAHM I AM] Catty-Cake (or Ring-Around-The-Rosie)

  Okay, Tom is taking the twins to their ballet class, so I’m IMing Zelia, and I hear the distant sounds of a kitty meowing. I walk out of my office and see MacKenzie scuttle through the dining room, looking guilty as sin.

  “MacKenzie, what are you doing? Where’s Rosie?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs, eyes wide.

  I am not fooled. But I don’t hear any more sounds, so I figure the cat was able to escape and hide. “Leave the poor kitty alone. He won’t like you if you keep messing with him.”

  She scowls. “I don’t LIKE Rosie! He bites me!”

  “He wouldn’t bite you if you weren’t so mean to him all the time!”

  “I just want to play with him.”

  “Well, don’t blame me if he scratches or bites you. You’re asking for it!”

  She sticks her nose up in the air. “He’s not going to bite me anymore.”

  She sounds so confident that little prickles of suspicion peck at me. “How do you know?”

  Again with the ultrainnocent look. “I just do.”

  Uh-huh. I’m about to prod further, but my phone rings, so I give her one last glare for good measure, and go back to the office to answer the phone. It is, of course, a client. I end up having to listen to her take the long way around her question.

  I hear beeps—like the sound of the buttons on our microwave. MacKenzie! Now what is she doing? I slip on my hands-free headset, and walk to the kitchen, with the client still babbling in my ear.

  MacKenzie doesn’t see me. She pushes another button. I tiptoe toward her, intending to catch her in the act. She knows better than to play with the microwave.

  And then, with something I can only call Mother’s Intuition, I know EXACTLY what is in the microwave—

  ROSIE!

  MacKenzie’s finger is poised over the start button, and I’m still several feet away from her. I scream. “NOOOOO!!!!” I dive toward her, my client shrieking in my ear, wanting to know what is happening. Just as her finger touches the button, I shove her to the ground. I’ve never played football in my life, but I must say this was a beautiful tackle.

  I have no idea what my client is saying now. I fling open the microwave, and this orange streak flies at me out of my metal springform cake pan. The streak lands on my HEAD, digging its claws into my scalp with a screech. I think the client hung up on me at that point.

  I’m in such pain that I’m yelling—at MacKenzie (w
hom I’ve now lost track of), at Rosie, at Tom for being gone, and at microwave manufacturers for making such a dangerous kitchen appliance. The cat will NOT let go of my head, and the more I tug, the more it hurts.

  I hear the front door open. A man’s voice—that is NOT Tom—is talking to MacKenzie.

  “MacKenzie!!! Who is that?”

  “It’s a policeman, Mommy! I’m showing him the bump you just gave me on my head!”

  Oh, lovely. I stumble toward the front door, the cat still clinging to my head.

  I point to my cat hat. “Get him off of me!”

  The officer’s eyes bug out. “Okay, ma’am, just calm down.”

  “Calm down? After Mac tried to nuke him and my client probably thinks we’re all insane and I have a police officer at my door and there’s needles in my brain and my daughter has a bruise and you probably think I’m a horrible, abusive, crazy parent, and you want me to CALM DOWN? Get it off! Get it off me!!!”

  He approaches me cautiously—out of fear of me or the cat, I can’t tell. His hands close in around the trembling kitty. Then I feel something wet and warm dribbling down through my hair and behind my ear. It’s not coming from one of the points of pain, so it can’t be blood. That leaves…yeah, you guessed it. Rosie got so scared, he peed on my head. In front of the police officer.

  Make that ON the police officer.

  “Um, ma’am?” He’s holding the wet cat by the scruff of its neck.

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.” I turn to MacKenzie, swallowing the wave of fury that rises just looking at her. “Darling,” I grind out, “please get Mommy a towel. Now.”

  She nearly trips in her haste to obey.

  I take Rosie from the officer. “Was there something you needed, Officer?”

  “I was driving by and heard screaming. Just came to investigate.”

  MacKenzie returns with the towel. I offer it to him. “We had a…cat incident.”

  He nods solemnly, wiping his hands. “I noticed.”

  “This doesn’t normally happen.”

  “That’s…good.”

  “I think we’re okay. Would you like to wash your hands?”

  “Thanks. And I think you should get those puncture wounds on your head checked out.”

  “I will.”