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the interview…day two

Posted on April 12, 2007
Filed Under bus rides, kids, parenting, self interview, snark, suburban joys | 12 Comments

Since yesterday’s self interview was so well received, me, myself and I would like to continue the dialog. (Also, keeping it real here, I must have thrown up some brain cells on Monday night. I’m still having trouble regaining my footing as dynamic, witty blog writer.) Let’s see what my subconscious has to say today….

CCE of Madmarriage enters the room in yesterday’s pajamas, her hair limp, dark circles beneath the eyes. This reporter can’t help but think she’s still on death’s door.

Wow, you don’t look like you’ve progressed much in the past 24 hours. Are you still ill?

Yup…still sick. Headache, stomach cramps, general malaise and I can’t understand why. My children weathered this violent stomach bug and in a mere 24 hours were asking for chocolate bunnies and pizza. I guess I’m representing the old and the weak. Those who die of the Roto virus or the Noro virus or whatever plague has it’s teeth in me. I can’t help but think about Sunday’s Planet Earth when the aging, slow elephant is separated from the herd and devoured by lions. The young survive; the old and weak are dinner.

Have you thought about seeing a doctor?

I did consider packing it up and checking it to the ER last night when I was on my third hour of excruciating stomach pain – Just think childbirth, that’s all I can relate the experience to besides my wedding night which is a whole other story. My Better Half is still out of town and I would have had my two children with me in the ER. I can’t overstate how unpleasant that experience promised to be and, of course, there was the danger of them contracting a flesh eating Strep virus from our time in triage so I decided to ride out the pain at home.

Wait…let’s back up here. Your wedding night? Care to elaborate?

Oh God, it’s such a pathetic story that has to do with bad sushi eaten a few days before the wedding and a nasty case of food poisoning that remained unidentified for a few too many days. Let’ make a long story short and say the honey moon was spent in the local hospital where I was operated on twice and finally diagnosed with the most noxious case of Campylobacter that doctors have ever seen. The ‘in sickness and in health” thing came up early in the relationship and kind of set the tone for the duration.

That sucks. Do you ever think about having your wedding over again. You know, just to do it without probable death as an accompaniment?

Nah, I don’t know too many people who would want to go through the stress of creating a guest list, choosing a menu and a dress and the appropriate foot wear all over again. The whole thing really went off well considering how awful I felt…the lilacs were in bloom, the peonies on the tables were fragrant and stunning, the band was adequate and the Best Man gave a shitty speech that was more appropriate for My Better Half’s funeral. No, everything was just as it should’ve been, though if I were to do it all over again, I’d pick a different dress and wouldn’t wear that stupid veil. Who was I kidding conjuring the virgin bride? What a farce.

By the way, talking about weddings reminds me of the book I’m reading right now, A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon (see link at top of page). It’s a great read, hilariously funny and has a lot to do with spoofing weddings and marriage and it’s really been a consolation to have a good book to dive into while convalescing. Plus I’m a huge sucker for British dialect, throw in a few words like shagging, the telly and nappies and I’m hooked. Let me read you an excerpt to whet your appetite:

“Katie and Ray headed into town and had a minor disagreement at the printers. Ray thought the number of gold twirls on an invitation was a measure of how much you loved someone, which was odd for a man who thought colored socks were for girls. Whereas the ones Katie preferred looked like invitations to accounting seminars apparently.

Ray held up his favorite design and Katie said it looked like an invite to Prince Charming’s coming-out party. At which point the man behind the counter said, “Well, I don’t want to be around when you two choose the menu.”

It goes on like that, funny and true and total delight when you’re dying in your bed, alone.

When your kids got home yesterday were you able to help them with homework and drive O to boy scouts and prepare dinner despite your illness?


I did manage to do most of that, kind of doubled over and half-assed, but I got it done. There was really no choice but to immediately tend to their needs as G got off the bus crying and O was practically crowing about how she got in trouble and the bus driver insisted on writing up a conduct report because she wasn’t sitting in her seat properly. According to my inconsolable five year old, “she didn’t know that sitting in the aisle was forbidden. She was sitting down after all. And seriously, she was just trying to get closer to Fiona Bryan who has, like, ten Webkinz and is pretty much royalty in these parts.” There was so much grief and shame leaking out of her eyes and running down her rosy cheeks that I just couldn’t be mad at her. And I helped her understand that I still loved her. And it makes my heart bleed just a little to think of her going to the principal’s office today. She’s hardly a juvenile delinquent. I mean, she wears Hello Kitty sneakers and shirts with heart appliques and carries a doll named Baby in her pink backpack. I think there’s something inherently wrong with a bus driver named Eddie who belches into the intercom, picks his nose and eats it, makes a game of achieving unique speeds on windy residential roads and gives conduct reports to five year olds. I don’t care how sick I am this afternoon. Come three o’clock I’m meeting that bus and getting to the bottom of this. I mean, WTF, my G woke up at 5:30 this morning sobbing about having to miss her field trip because she’s surely going to have in-house detention. She’s five for fuck’s sake!

I can see you’re worked up about this. But I’m kind of curious, would you have been half as supportive and understanding if it had been O who had received the conduct report?

(Shocked silence and veiled hostility apparent on CCE’s face)

Well, I’m thinking about that one and, if I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure. Though I think you’re a bitch for pointing out that I may be shamefully biased towards one of my offspring.

Just trying to ask the probing questions that make for good journalism. When you’re done weeping into your hands and lamenting your failure as a mother we can continue…..or not.

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