Monday, March 21, 2011

Village Idiots

The house next door to me is going up for sale in the next few months. After three years of sitting empty, there's been a steady stream of activity, landscapers, painters, and clearly a new kitchen being put in, because the IHPs now have twenty-seven boxes that say Frigidaire and Kenmore and GE and have now constructed a dilapidated housing complex on my driveway.

So now, thanks to the collection of too many toys, the furniture on the porch and the cardboard condominiums, all we need to be the klassiest house on the street is a 1976 Ford Galaxy on blocks and a washing machine with a cat in it.

The point is, I mentioned to Lydia that hey, since you and the Cap'n are going to be house hunting, and you love the neighborhood and the school [Editor's Note: Save that one snitchy mom who is just so so so involved with her Classroom Mom duties that she had business cards made. You think I kid. -Kate] and you can just live. next...door. What?

This is both an awesome idea and a colossally bad, bordering on apocalyptically bad. First, we'd never get anything done because we'd constantly be out in the front yard gabbing, and it's not like we don't spend thousands of hours on the phone anyway. At least when we hang up, we can throw laundry in. However, being right next door could mean that you have that back-up mom super nearby. For when you forgot to buy diapers and you don't want to take everyone to the store, or for when you need 15 minutes to rock back and forth in your closet in the fetal position.

Then Kate found out that the house behind her is going to be vacated soon. What? This is fabulous.  We can build a compound! A compound of moms. Who all live as close as possible...and trade off mom duties. Like a Village! A Kid Raising, Mom-Centric, T-box Infused Village of "Oh, you don't need to explain bathtime. I'm all over it..." of Knowledgeable, Gets-It, Mostly Sane Moms!Working in tandem to raise all the children all together. And so not culty at all...One week you could be Child Rearing Mom, and the next week, you're just Randy Mom [No, it's not British porny! You have to be the Laundry Fairy. Sheesh.] The more moms, the more division of labor. It IS a freakin' village.

Here's what we propose. The crappy weeks are followed by light weeks. Like, one week you're Diaper Mom and you spend the whole week elbow deep in every level of gross. Then, you get to be Goes To Work Mom and put on pants that were washed by the dry cleaners and wear makeup and go to an office. The next week you're Food Mom...maybe followed by Randy Mom and Tidy Mom [you clean the houses] and Homework Mom. Then a week of Child Rearing Mom [you know, teaching them rules and knitting and Go Fish and how to make a bed] followed by the ever unpredictable Late Shift Mom [you handle midnight feedings, nightmares and requests for water and snuggles] and then it's a blissful week of StoryTime Mom [read books!] before slathering yourself in Desitin for the return of Diaper Mom duties.

What about Dads, you say? Well, we all know that this is a paradoxical relationship. After all, we do need them for several things... but it also turns out that, by and large, they're idiots. And we have to give a lot of instructions to prevent that idiocy from taking over. So, we propose visits, sleepovers, vacations and outings. You may live nearby in a Man House of ESPN, leatherette covered furniture and empty pizza boxes.

(Editor's Note: I want to live in the Man House. - Lydia)

Here's the problem. And shut up, this plan is flawless, except for this one teensy tiny little hitch. Lydia and I? We would suck at this?We would be the Village Idiots. Invariably, we'd run out of diapers during our Diaper Mom week and we'd have to bug Grocery Store Mom about it, and before she'd get back, there would be 86 diaper explosions and then Laundry Mom would be seventeen shades of pissed off at us. Or, it would be the week that one of us is Laundry Mom and the kids -- all 96 thousand of them -- would all have the curse of the projectile vomit and we'd wind up smacking sheets with a rock under the hose because we killed the washing machine. And then Goes to Work Mom would be hacked because her hard earned money just got spent at Sears instead of Saks.

Or, we'd be StoryTime Mom and then have a cerebral hemorrhage because one kid too many asked for Goodnight Moon and our heads exploded. Which would really aggravate off Tidy Mom. Brains are hard to clean.

So, we have a modest proposal. We'll take the role of Schedule Mom. Not only for the kids, but for the moms. It's a daunting task, what with coordinating Girl Scouts and karate, t-ball and husband visits, vacations and Mom Duties. But, we're so ready to take this important, but thankless role. You're welcome.

Also, it's a satellite job, so we'll be moving into the recently vacated house at the other end of town. Tell the kids we'll see them on Thursday.

xoxo Kate & Lydia

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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