Thursday, October 23, 2008
Time To Hit "Pause"
Why am I paying a babysitter so I can watch the children of strangers? My dear husband, whom I affectionately call “Milk Man,” (for reasons involving his diligence in bringing home dairy products), saw someone stranded in the middle of the road. This someone’s car ran out of gas. I thought Milk Man was the only one in the universe who had that happen to him, but apparently, there is another man whose gas gage is broken, and we just found him. What luck. Now I'm watching the stranger drive away in my car, sitting in my seat, with my husband, to get gas. I think I’m jealous.
“Are you the teacher?” asks the boy twin in the fuzzy sweater. He has tight curly hair like the runner up on the first season of American Idol whose name is now a Trivial Pursuit question. Apparently, this boy loves to sing too, (about poop). “No," I say, shutting the car door because it’s getting cold. “I’m just a mommy.” The twin sister is amazed. “That’s your job, just MOMMY?” She’s chewing the strings on her pink coat. “Pretty much,” I shrug, not expecting to need a copy of my resume to supervise preschoolers for a few minutes. “Oh,” they say in unison, then grow quiet.
Milk Man and the stranger pull up with gas. The dad sticks his head in the window and asks, “How were they?” I tell him his kids are beautiful and adorable. He laughs. “Spend a whole day wit em,” is his response. I’m thinking this man is a dumb ass. I look down at the floor of his car so he can't read my expression. I climb back into the passenger seat of my own vehicle, ready AGAIN to go out to dinner.
After pouring the gas into the stranger's car, Milk Man stands back, watching it not start. I sigh. "I think you need a jump," he yells. Both men look up at me, and I know what’s coming. Next I’m back in the SUV with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, as the men drive off to an auto shop to borrow jumper cables. “I have two bedrooms,” shouts the girl. “My green one is in my daddy’s house and my pink Dora bedroom is in my grandma’s house.” “Wow” I say. Meanwhile, I have to start directing traffic. Dozens of cars operated by oblivious, speeding drivers talking on cell phones, buzz around the stuck SUV. I stick my head in the window to ask the kids how they are doing. They’re playing "tickle."
The men return with cables. I get into the back again with the children, and shut the car door, as my husband and the stranger try to start it. “Where’s mommy?” I whisper-ask the kids. The little girl leans toward my ear, like she has a great secret. “Daddy was yelling at Mommy again, so she went to grandma’s house.” I look over at the twin brother. He’s shaking his head in grave agreement. “Oh,” I say, upset for them. “That’s very hard for you.” They both nod, and stare off into space.
The car is running now and the stranger thanks us. I say goodbye to the kids and walk away. When I look back they’re still waving, and I feel compelled to bless them secretly, and thank God for my good husband, whom I love so much.
Dear Internet Traveler,
Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.