Heather is in New York up to all sorts of nonsense I am sure. So I am subbing in tonight. I will try not to make this too long. And don’t flame me at the end. I am sooo paying for my crimes against the motherhood sisterhood. Today was a day that further emphasized why it is that my gal pals have stuck with me.
As I have mentioned before and some of you may recall, I never intended to be a mom. So it was super duper easy for me to step right up onto my pedestal of righteousness and dole out parenting tips to those so obviously in need.
Heather, for example, whose toddler daughter was usually still awake when she would call me, glass of wine in hand, at ten of an evening, to discuss mortgage hostessing, the trials of marriage and whatever was important at the moment. I explained as clearly as was possible, many many times, that she simply needed to put her in her room and firmly instruct her to stay put. Letting her set her own hours would destroy her respect for authority and spoil her for future school schedules. She never commented and usually moved on to the evils of Wells Fargo as soon as I paused to take a drink of my own wine.
And Lou, whose daughter would interrupt her every three seconds every time she got on the phone needed to hear that as long as she acknowledged this behavior, it would continue.
My sister in law who would occasionally let her 2 year old lick the floor really deserved the lecture she recieved on disease prevention and the host of bacteria that live on soles of a dog’s foot.
I am not making any of this up. These are conversations I have had. If anyone feels the need to substantiate any of this, I have phone numbers. I really was that horrid
The reasons these women (and there were more) did not slam the phone and lose my number is because they all KNEW. They knew I could not possibly escape the wrath of karma and that I would, eventually, have a kid. And that kid would grown into a toddler. And they wanted, needed to be there when I fell off my pedestal and wrecked my hair. They had earned their place in the front row.
Today I was at the Big Baptist neighbor lady’s for a play date and some tea. Her son and mine were playing in her son’s bedroom (which, by the way, was tastefully decorated right down to the beautiful Berber carpet.)
We heard a noise in the next room. From the door exploded a stricken John Kelly, naked from the waist down. “Oh JESUS,” he exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. “I pooped on the rug!”
Love and vodka, Kelly Lynn(e)
Kelly Lynnie.. thanks for ending my oh so shitty day with a great belly laugh! you rock!