Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Humble Pie, Baked by the Matron

Sunday morning was particularly arduous.

Merrick, who suffers from 'unbearable sensitive prickly skin disease,' could not tolerate his new pants. This is a child who has a uniform without a school requirement: same two pair of blue jeans (now with holes that distinguish one from the other) white Hanes or Fruit of the Loom T-shirt (she mentions brand so one can fully appreciate how nondescript said t-shirts are) and a black sweatshirt (this item is singular but also has helpful identifying holes).

So the intrepid mother went to the thrift store and The Mother Ship (Target) and purchased a wide variety of items without holes -- new pants, new sweatshirt, more white t-shirts. Leading toward a complete psychological collapse of the youngest child.

Sunday morning.


Matron: "Merrick, these are new clothes. Here are clothes without holes. They're just your size. Look! New jeans! New white t-shirts! New sweatshirt--black. The same color as required."

Merrick: "These clothes awe EVIL. Whewe awe my weal clothes?" The Matron may have downplayed the number of holes in said clothes. It's significant enough to expect a phone call from the school social worker.

Matron: "Honey, you really need to try on these new things. They're almost exactly like the other clothes."

Screaming ensued.

During this mayhem, Scarlett woke up.

Matron: "Scarlett, you really need to shower and do homework before your tech rehearsal starts today."

Scarlett: "Mom! That is SO UNFAIR. I showered five days ago. I'm not even going to school anymore so I can put off homework. I have TEN HOURS of rehearsals today and I'm SO TIRED."

All true. Scarlett has been to school just six days this entire year. Thus, the earlier home-schooling query. She's currently logging 14 hour days.

Matron: "I know, but do you have to scream?"

Then HWCBN decided to complain, loudly, about his life.

Everyone was in distress. The new (now sixty pound) puppy was trying to eat the tea pot while simultaneously chewing Merrick as dessert. Satan's Familiar pooped in the basement. John couldn't find his cell phone or wallet, something the Matron tried to forgive since she lost the car.

All this before noon on a Sunday morning. The Matron had enough. She gathered her things and announced her departure, in an uncharacteristic move of intolerance and complete surrender.

Matron: "I have to go. I have some errands to run."

HWCBN: "Right. You're just bailing because everyone is upset."

Matron: "Indeed." That's actually a good word, as there's just the right amount of superiority and ambiguity.

The whole household watched in wonder as the mother, heart of the household, stormed out the door. Lest there be any misunderstanding: she stormed. Drama. The Matron was making a Significant Point about Unacceptable Behavior.

She marched out to the garage, hit the door opener and . . . . the door started to open and then sighed, slopped down and died. With the car and her escape inside.

There were a few frantic moments of button pushing and door heaving. The Matron prayed to God-Buddha-Oprah-Universe-Allah for assistance. Alas, the gods appeared to be asleep.

She considered her symbolic departure (from the less than powerful position of the sidewalk by the driveway) and the result of skulking back in. So much for emphasis. She walked back into the house, where the squabbles and upheavals in the kitchen remained in full force.


HWCBN: "So much for your dramatic departure."

Matron: "I need help. The garage door is broken."

HWCBN and John came out with gloves, screwdrivers and hope. Merrick found a pair of black gloves -- because that's his color -- and took the role of lifting up the door (with some deceit involved in how much of his personal power might lift the thing). It took some time, but they were able to heave open the door and inspect the broken cables (which later cost $119 to fix). The Matron held her bag, computer and dignity while she watched, at the mercy of men and the very people who were driving her crazy.

John: "There. It's all fixed--you can go."

Matron: "Are you going to make pancakes?"

Merrick, HWCBN, Scarlett: "Pancakes!!! Yes!"

Matron: "Actually, I think I can stay for awhile."

They all went inside and ate breakfast, better.


trash said...

Pancakes or getaway? Hmmm ... it is indeed a tough choice.

ree said...

Pancakes do have the ability to make everything better. :-)

Navhelowife said...

At least the garage door did not hit the actual CAR!
I'm glad pancakes made things better.
And I've had the drama filled "I'M leaving for awhile " moments too.
Usually I can't find my car keys.

Anonymous said...

Funny how the ones who drive us to the end of our ropes are also the ones who pull us back in and pat down our ruffled feathers. Definitely have left a time or two just to catch my breath and have peace for a few brief moments. Hang in there Mary, in the midst of chaos there is a quiet center...
somewhere! Bramble

Anonymous said...

The Garage Door Gremlin made a stop here, too. Happily my car is parked outside. (Yes, the garage is full of cars that don't run -- isn't everyone's?)

Anonymous said...

THANK YOU for the laugh. I needed it.

Anonymous said...

And they all lived happily ever after. Your family is so charming in their resilience;)

Anonymous said...

"These clothes awe EVIL." I think he's right. Which is why I'm still in my pajamas, wishing I had pancakes.

I love family life (usually).

Irene said...

Isn't it nice how you pull through for them every time? You must make very good pancakes. They do adore you after all, don't they, and not just because of your culinary skills.

Anonymous said...

Oh honey. You are so patient, such a loving mother. You do so many wonderful things for so many people.

But there is only so much complaining a mother is required to take before she is permitted, nay, encouraged, to remind her children of their dependence on her goodwill.

Take care of yourself!


Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

Having made use of the dramatic exit a time or two myself, I hear you loud and clear.

Now about Merrick and the clothes--have you tried cutting out all tags and washing them about 20 times? And again I must remind you that I have seen a very high correlation between intelligence and sensitive skin. The smartest kids I know have spent most of their life in sweatpants.

MJ said...

I love Merrick! He's got such personality!

I applaud your effort for the dramatic exit and re-entry! Everyone knows their cues!

Daisy said...

Ah, pancakes. They can cure almost any ill.

Word verification: burpo -- the game men play with a pitcher of beer. Okay, maybe they only do that in Wisconsin.

Anonymous said...

I'm dealing with evil clothes here too. I went to Goodwill to spend $3 per pair on the 32 or 34 waist pants (all name brands that would have cost me $25ish new) and then paid $5 to have them shortened to the 26" length he requires--thinking I was being quite thrifty (and tricky). Apple-not-falling-far-from-the-tree and all, my son now washes the one pair of his "bought new" pants that still fit every night so he doesn't have to wear those others. At some point they'll be so threadbare he'll have to give in, or I will. Not holding my breath.