TEACHER, AUTHOR, EDUblogger "I want to (read and) write books that unblock the traffic jam in everyone's mind." ~J. Updike
Future Window Cleaner
(Imaginary) Email Messages between a grown daughter (WATZ1MOR@igotthis.com) and her mother (email@example.com)
Okay, remember when I used to spout those pretty crazy idealistic things about parenting?
Well, good morning to you too, dear! Honey, why were you up at one in the morning, and to which “idealistic” spouting would you be referring?
P.S. I’m leaving with your father for our daily 3 mile walk. But I’ll bring my Smart Phone and try to reply. It’ll be slow; I haven’t got the hang of that virtual QWERTY keyboard! Toodles! 😉
Does this ring any bells? ＞“My children will never have runny noses. They will not act like little brats. Their clothes will match and I will definitely not let them go out in public looking like circus rejects and wearing Superhero costumes. Don’t those mothers care?”
I said that when I was 17 or 18 years old, B.C. (Before Children).
Sorry tick so long to 2 reply. Real icing I couldn’t text & walk at the same tomb. LOL! =)
B.C.? Cute! I like that! 😉
A$$? NO! I mean- And? Please, ex cussing me. WOW! His DARN Auto Correct is fist rating me- AHHHHHHH! FRUSTRATING ME!!
It’s actually kind of funny and I needed that after the day I had yesterday. You know, those bad ‘ideals’ I had back then. Just a little judgmental and extremely naive Of course A.C. (After Children) hit me in the face like an ice-cold bucket of water and I’m left wondering where I went wrong! =(
I was just now able to look at your message. Dad & me are out antiquing and stopped in this little cafe’ for coffee & lite lunch. Don’t you just love how WI-FI is everywhere now? =) Typing slower now to avoid fiasco of last txt to you. 😉 A.C. ~ another cutie phrase. I’ll have to fart that one karaoke. WHAT?! How did USE become FART? And LATER become KARAOKE? I think these phone people programmed it this way on purpose and are laffing at us right now! Anyway, what do you men, deaf? R U ticking about looting idealistic exportation after Josh was born?
You’re too funny Mom!
Well, yeah kinda. “Idealistic expectations,” anyway. Of course I didn’t lose those expectations right away. Oh no! For me, after Josh was born I thought, Hey! This is easy. What are those other Moms complaining about? They just need to man up and get it done! Then too long after that arrogant thought Grace was born! After awhile I thought to myself, Hey, I got this! To which I can just imagine God saying with a twinkle in His eye, You do? Really? And then- BAM! We have Jesse. And up until yesterday I was still holding myself to those lofty, “perfect mom” expectations.
Nobody’s pervert, deaf. I’m sure it only seems so bath now when its freak & new 2 U.
Tell me what hardened?
Mom! gotta turn off your Auto correct. Its making you sound drunk. And STOP with the smileys this is not a laughing matter! 😦
Sorry! So soupy, dear! Haven’t fondled how to touch it off yet. Give me mime & I’ll be a problem at this- just U waiter!
P.S. Your feather & I are heading downstairs to catch the opening of a new porn. I’ll have 2 turn office my phone. But I will get you back after. I premise!
For my own peace of mind I’m translating that as heading downtowns for the opening of a new play… don’t pop my bubble of innocence. Okay- lemme break it down for you. Josh is 3. Grace is 2. And Jesse is 3 months. Well, long story, short, had to take Jesse in for his 3-month-old, well-baby check-up. No problem, right? Ha…….Ha…And HA-ha! Try doing it by yourself, with only two hands, and a very hyper-active three year old whose favorite pastime is to strip naked and run down the street giggling maniacally!
Oh honey, “maniacally”? I real eels can’t picture sweet, little Joshie doing that.
Picture this: I’m standing at the reception desk trying to get Jesse signed in. With one hand I’ve got hold of Grace by her pink-striped Osh Kosh overalls, my left foot is rocking the car seat-carrier at my feet( because wouldn’t you know it, Jesse is having a “fussy” afternoon),and my other hand is holding Josh’s wiggly, squirmy, get-me-outta-here, hand. Who by the way, is wearing his Superman costume, complete with foam muscles.
“You’ll have to fill out these forms before the doctor can see you.” The secretary informs me.
I reach into my purse/ diaper bag looking for an elusive pen with which I can perform this simple, yet mundane, activity. Umm. Cheerios. Pacifiers. Rattles. Eww! What is syrup covered Hot Wheel doing in there?
The secretary comes barely short of rolling her eyes at me before she says, “There’s a line behind you.”
Wonderful. How observant! Yes, there is.
Unprepared. Something I am never supposed to be.
“Umm, do you have a pen I can borrow?”
“Well, not really.” She looks at me pointedly, “People keep taking them.”
I swear it wasn’t me!
“Here this is all I’ve got.” She tosses a pen on the counter, attached to a giant tongue depressor the size of one of those novelty pens you get at tourist spots.
In my mind I’m calculating. If I let go of Grace she’ll have a melt-down. She’s one of those toddlers, Mom! Quite attached. On the other hand, if I let go of Josh, he may strip naked and run through the office. I look at his shoes. Yesss! They’re untied!
Not looking down, I casually side-step and pin his laces under my tennis shoe. Then I verrrrry. . . slowly release his hand to retrieve the yardstick-sized pen. The minute my fingers touch that honkin’ pen, he takes off and crashes to his knees. Now he’s crying. Is he hurt? No! He’s mad! I feel a tap on my shoulder.
A well-coiffed and well-manicured mother of one, very quiet and perfect Shirley Temple look-a-like, says to me, “Excuse me. You hurt your baby.”
Really, lady? Do you not see that maniacal gleam in his eye?
I pretend not to hear her as I reach for the novel sized stack of admittance papers. She taps me harder on the shoulder. That’s going to bruise.
I turn and look at her with this glowing, yet very fake, pasted on smile. “Yes?” I ask.
“Your baby has his shoes untied and you stepped on the laces. He fell flat on his little face! You should really make sure his shoes are tied and watch where you step.”
“Thank you so much! Aw, poor baby! Are you okay?” I don’t think I was very convincing but she sure probably didn’t conclude that I’d stepped on his laces on purpose. I eased off his laces. By this time, smart boy that he is, he’s already in a starting position ready to blast out of the track the minute I lift my foot.
Okay. What harm could he do in here? They’re used to kids, right?
So with my right foot rocking the carrier, and my left hand on Grace’s suspenders, I begin to fill out the forms as quick as I can. I note that Josh’s maniacal giggling has stopped. Hey! Maybe he’s sitting quietly and reading a book!
The “perfect mom” mutters, “Oh my goodness! This is ridiculous! You shouldn’t be a mother if you can’t control your kids.”
I don’t believe in violence, Mom. Really! So I just continued filling forms, my face flushed as hot as a Maine lobster, my foot rocking the carrier and my left hand holding Grace’s suspenders. Grace, who then decides to uncharacteristically pull and try to get away. Maybe she was trying to ditch that embarrassing scene. I don’t blame her.
The receptionist raps on the counter with her knuckles. “ Ma’am, do you even care what your child is doing? He’s washing our front windows for us.” She pauses and I keep filling out forms. But then she adds, “With his tongue!”
Could this get any worse?! Well, after getting the paperwork filled out in record time, I handed it all to the reception-lady with sigh of relief.
She looks at the names. “Umm. . . What did you say your son’s name was?”
“Wow.” She pauses and then with a little shrug says, “I hate to tell you this, but I thought you said Jessie Days. Your appointment isn’t until tomorrow!”
“Oh! That’s us! Jessie Days,” ‘perfect mom’ behind me says, as she shoves past me with her perfect, Shirley Temple-in-curls, toddler. I was a little dazed and very tired. And before I could turn around to grab Josh, the lady looks over her shoulder and says, “You really should control your child better. Someone could turn you in for being a neglectful parent.”
She then went back to filling out forms, with her gold plated pen and with Shirley Temple standing like an angel by her side. Shell-shocked, I really did expect that child to burst out in song at any moment. I’m sure the lady would have been mortified, but hey! At least her kid’s not licking the windows!
I need your advice, Mom. I feel like a Fruit Loop in a box of Cheerios! =(
Oh hornet! I hope you don’t mind but I forwarded that last email to a friend of mine. So funny! I nearly wet my pants I laughed so hard! You should write this in an article and submit it to some magazine or something somewhere! Good night sweet heat! Hope you feel butter.
P.S. You didn’t really let Josh lick windows did you? =(
“The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.”~Gustave Flaubert