“Mom, why are your hands shaking? You’re going to spill your wine and you know what happened last time the dogs licked it off the floor!”
“Oh, Honey, I think it finally hit me. I mean, I really thought we were doing a good job of avoiding it this summer with all our emails, cell phone calls, greeting cards and notes taped to the back of the stop sign. It appears they were just stall tactics.”
“Mom, are you sure? I mean, this is the worst I’ve ever seen you.”
“Remember the Front Yard Incident last week? Mrs. Jones was only out of town three days and we broke into tears in the front yard when she got home. It took us an hour for just the preliminary catch up. We had to finish later that evening.”
“Yeah, but you guys are always hugging and crying over something. Come on, Mom, go easy on yourself.”
“But Sweetie, yesterday I burned three grilled cheeses in a row! Wait, that’s not unusual. Hey, stop rolling your eyes — I saw that! I’m telling you — I am now officially suffering from this summer’s case of Bus Stop Mommy Withdrawal.”
I guess I should be pleased I made it through July before getting the shakes. By mid-June last year, Liz had to cut her rafting trip short and come home early when she kept losing every paddle they handed her.
Every day is a bad hair day. I just can’t fight the humidity and heat without whining about it up at the corner.
The kids are listless. They insist on staying home and making eye contact with me. A very bad sign.
My houseplants are wilting. I feed them. I water them. They too miss the harmonious sounds of mommy chatter.
The dogs are acting strange. They keep looking at the clock, then their leashes, then me. “Come on, lady, we’re going to miss the bus! Why are you just sitting there in your kitchen staring into your coffee cup?”
My coffee tastes funny. It was perfectly fine last week. I think it’s taking longer to brew and the crack in my carafe is growing.
The car is making a funny noise but the mechanic says he can’t hear a thing. “When do you hear the noise?” he asked.
“When I’m idling in the middle of the street talking to a girlfriend who’s out walking her dog.”
“You need to duplicate the scenario,” says Mr. Mechanic.
“I can’t. That girlfriend is at the beach this week.”
Mr. Mechanic doesn’t understand my predicament.
My whites aren’t as white; my towels are taking longer to dry; I’m not sleeping well; the mailman keeps giving me my neighbor’s mail and my nails are all breaking at the quick.
“Hey, Mom, the Whites just got back from the beach. I can see Mrs. White unloading the car. Bye, Mom — have fun. We won’t wait up for you.”
Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)
