I REMEMBER JENNY – And Mom’s Liberation Day

At last it had happened! After two years, two babies and considerably more than two pounds, I was finally able to leave the two of them for a full day alone and (even better) a full night with only my husband.
I didn’t dare tell Terry my (then) husband. I wanted to give him a special surprise. It had been a long time since he’d come home and found me with my bath already taken, make-up on, hair combed, teeth brushed, etc. I was planning an exotic meal for two with adult food.
As I dropped the kids off my conversation with Nan, a brave and caring friend, went something like this:
Me: “By the way, I know your kids have had all their shots, but what about your puppy?”
Nan: “Yes, Era, relax! Your kids have been here before and never caught AIDS. I don’t mind that you always spray our bathroom with Lysol every time you come over, but please relax and get out of here.”
“Okay. Ah, you’re not having any company then?”
“I promise to stick a thermometer in every mouth that enters our door. Leave.”
“Right. Ah, if they are outside very long…”
“I know. You told me about dehydration – water every 20 minutes. Should I boil it first? Scram!”
“Sorry. If there’s any problems…”
“I have your number. GO!”
“Right.”
Driving home, I gave myself all the lectures Nan had given me a hundred times before: “If you don’t get away, you’ll keep acting more and more strange. It’s not normal for you to never be more than five feet away from your kids for this long. Look, I know CPR, their pediatrician lives five minutes away, neither Tom or I have past histories of child abuse or molestation. Era, they both like it here. I’ll feed them nutritious, non-chocking foods only. I’ll sit on the side of the tub with them. I’ve removed all plastic bags from the house. Our kids are safe here – yours will be too.
Besides, if you don’t do this, Era, who will you leave your kids with while you two are in divorce court. I’m not going to be available!”
As I pulled into my driveway I was elated with the thought of just getting out of the car and walking inside instead of unbuckling two car seats and carrying one baby and dragging one toddler. I didn’t have to make a second trip to the car to retrieve diaper bags or toys. This unleased my energy.
I began cleaning like crazy. The toaster oven was removed from the toilet, chairs were put right side up. Yogurt, hardened for months, was scrapped off walls. The morning and early afternoon yielded a spotless and shining house. Terrific!
Now for dinner. Zucchini stuffed with shrimp, Mussel Chowder, Pistachio Rice Salad and Mousse au Chocolat with Cirgarettes Russes. What fun it was to prepare anything other than hot dogs and french fries. The thought of a meal with no ketchup bottle on the table brought tears to my eyes.
Time now for a bath ALONE. Time for a manicure and a pedicure. Time to do my hair and apply make-up without the assistance and direction of a two-year old. Time to slip into something other than denim.
And time for: “Hello, honey. I’m home.” (He’s so original.)
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I yell while adjusting my panty hose.
“Hey!” he yells, “What’s that strange smell?”
“What smell?”
“It smells like no one has been weeing or throwing up on the carpet all day. Weird.”
“That’s cause no one’s been weeing or throwing up on the carpet all day.”
“Kids sick?”
“No honey. I’ll be out in a second.”
“Wow! What’s that other bizarre smell coming from the kitchen. It doesn’t smell like spaghettios.”
“Cause it’s not.”
“Are the kids okay?”
Yes, hon. I’m coming now.”
I sway down the steps looking as perfect as I can look and feeling like those Dynasty starlites have nothing on me.
“Oh, excuse me!” my husband says smiling flirtatiously and straightening his tie. Looking closer, “Hon, is that YOU?”
“What do you mean! Who did you think!”
“You don’t have peanut butter in your hair. No one’s been blowing their nose on your dress. You don’t smell like formula. You look kinda like you did before we were married – where’s the kids?”
“I look like I did before KIDS, honey. They’re at Nan’s.”
A bewildered look crossed his face as he pronounced: “At NAN’S!” as though I had delivered them to a leper’s colony. “Do they have fire alarms on both levels?”
I swallowed hard not believing I’d overlooked such a vital issue. “I’ll call and check.”
On my way to the phone, he yelled, “Don’t forget to tell them we’re on our way over with the guard rail for Jenny’s bed. That’ll give me a chance to check their lawn for fire ants too.”
While dialing those seven digits, I realize Mom’s romantic fantasy will have to be put on hold a little while longer. (There’s always the retirement years.)
“Hello, Nan…”