Posted in Mama, Writer

For Halloween! The Horror Movie Shower Scene: Single Lady Vs. Mom of Littles

It’s Halloween season (is that what we call it?), so let’s have a little horror fun.

The Traditional Shower Scene vs. The Shower Scene with a Mom of a Child Who Has School the Next Day

Traditional Shower Scene

(Steamy bathroom. Showering naked woman. A disguised serial killer enters unseen.)

(Door creaks.)

Woman: Who’s there? Rick? Is that you?

Serial killer silence.

Woman: Rick, stop it. You’re scaring me. Rick?

(Serial killer is finally seen through the thick steam, woman screams, and is murdered).

Fin.

Shower Scene with Mom of a School-Aged Child

(Steamy bathroom. Showering naked woman. A disguised serial killer enters unseen.)

(Door creaks.)

Mom (fully expecting that this is the child she has already said goodnight to three times, re-tucked in blankets for, fetched glasses of water and teddy bears for, and answered questions about God, superheroes, and Johnny Appleseed for, responds immediately with):

I swear to God above, if you don’t get right back to where you are supposed to be this instant you will be stuck in that room forever with nothing but the darkest whole grain bread, water, and the Oxford English Dictionary with the words “Rue,” “Sorrow,” and “woe” highlighted for your convenience. I don’t know what makes you think you can 1.) be sneaking around at night like you don’t have a place to be, and 2.) that you can just barge in to a bathroom with no thought of privacy or personal space– words that will also be highlighted in that you’re-never-going-to-see-the-light-of-day-again dictionary. Let me assure you, sweetheart- if your trouble making behind is anywhere near here when I get this soap out of my hair, you had better be able to run faster than The Flash, ‘cause I am going to be Right. Behind. You.

(Moments later, Mom emerges into an empty bathroom. The next day, her nice, mild-mannered coworker mysteriously starts giving her a wide berth.)

 

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Posted in Mama, Writer

The Usual Distractions

Kids are romping around, giggling and screaming, while watching the loud cartoon they begged for.

Husband is lying beside me. He’s watching Korean singing contests, and, because it’s Husband, it’s all blasting way too loud.

“Honey? Isn’t that loud? Is it at full volume?”

“No.”

(I clearly see him immediately open his tablet’s volume, lowering it two bars).

I’m trying to make myself small over here. If everyone’s occupied, maybe I’ll be able to write something continuously.

Not “in peace.”

Not “distraction free.”

It would actually be hard to imagine it getting any louder in here.

Distractions I’ve had. No problem.

The real issue is that the kids are doing some tickle torture chase game while they watch their show, and if I don’t hurry up my typing, I’ll have to stop in order to kiss someone’s inevitable booboos in the living room, and maybe have a talk with the other one about never pulling someone along by his/her shirt.

If I don’t get a move on, I’ll have to stop when Husband suddenly puts his tablet down and asks what “I” want for dinner (i.e. what am I cooking, i.e. “aren’t you going to start cooking? It’s dinner soon”).

My fingers need to fly because the cartoon the kids wanted is playing that song that means the problem is about to be solved.

Everything is loud. The music is always good, but I don’t speak the language, so, when I’m trying to work, it’s hard not to sound like a stereotypical old person complaining that it’s “just noise.”

Must go faster.

Distractions abound. Writing still happens.

It would be nice to be able to sit down and immerse myself in something for more than the 15 minutes the cartoon/ballad lasts.

I hear the credits-rolling song. Gotta hop up, point the kids in Husband’s direction, and start dinner.

Time’s up.