Life With Marlene

Marlene's Cunning Plan

About a week ago, my mother decided that my son desperately needed a swing. She told me it would soothe him; after all, we had a few nights were he did not sleep. I told her I appreciated that she was thinking of my husband and I and our lack of sleep.

Mom: It’s not about you. It’s for my grandson.

That evening, I received a phone call.

Mom: I got your swing. Can I drop it off? I promise I won’t stay.

Me: Okay. (pause) You know you can stay if you want.

She brought the bulky box into the house and sat on our couch. Of course, my mother could not simply go out to buy a swing—it had to be an adventure in consumerism.

Mom: (proudly) I got smart, Kim.

Me: Really? What did you do now?

Mom: Well, I saw the floor model of the swing and had an idea. I know that Mark is not the most handy person—

Mark was with us in the living room. He was about to say something, so I jumped in.

Me: He’s fine, Mom.

Mom: He couldn’t put together the plastic organizer for the baby’s room.

Mark: Neither could Mike! In fact, it’s being held together by screws.

Mom: Anyways, I got smart. I saw there were only like two tickets left and the floor model of the swing. So I took all the tickets for the swings in the back and hid them. This way, I thought, they had to sell me the floor model, which was already put together. And Mark wouldn’t have to put together the swing. So Katie put the floor model in the cart and we went to the cashier and I played stupid and said, ‘All the tickets are gone. This is the only one back there. I guess we’ll have to take it.’ See how smart I was?

Me: (sarcastically) Wow. That’s brilliant.

Mom: But then the cashier had to call the back to make sure there were none in boxes and the floor model was the only one left. And I thought, ‘Oh shit.’ And she said, ‘Ma’am, there’s one in a box in the back. The guy is bringing it out for you.’ And I played stupid and said, ‘That’s nice.’

Me: Okay…

Mom: (disappointed) So I ended up getting one in the box. Mark will have to put it together.

Mark: I can do that.

Me: Mark will be fine, Mom.

Mom: But now I don’t know what to do with these tickets I hid in my purse.

Baptism


I know my mother has been concerned about whether or not Mark and I
would baptize our son. Although she never said anything to me directly,
she told my both my father and brother to talk to me about it. I find it
odd that she asked my brother as he hasn't been to church in a long
time.

My mother also left church bulletins lying around the house last
Sunday. That was another hint.

The irony of the whole situation is that my mother never goes to
church. A few years ago, she was obsessed with Fr. Callan and Spiritus
Christi. She was into the breakaway church to the point where she was deeply
offended last week when Cardinal Ratzinger became pope. According to my
mom, Ratzinger was the one who excommunicated Callan and the Spiritus
Christi congregation.

I don't think she's been to a Catholic Mass in years. In fact, I can't
remember the last time she darkened the Cathedral door, except to poke
around in the renovated church.

After discussing it for some time, both Mark and I agree that we will
baptize Charlie as a Roman Catholic. We think it is important for a
child to be brought up in a structured religious environment.

My mother came over to babysit for a few hours so Mark and I could go
out for dinner, which is a rare treat these days. As she held Charlie,
he put his hands together like he was praying.

Mom: It looks like he's praying.

Mark: Well, he's the pope reincarnated.

Me: He's practicing because he knows he'll be baptized.

Mom: Good! You are finally getting him baptized.

Me: (mumbling) I know you were worried. I'm going to call the rectory
tomorrow and get information on baptism.

Mom: Where are you having it done?

Me: Sacred Heart.

Mom: (offended) Not Spiritus Christi?

Me: Sacred Heart will be fine.

Mom: Well, make sure you do it in a ten minute ceremony. I hate those
three hour mass things.

Me: I think they usually baptize during Mass. And it's only an hour
long, not three hours.

Mom: Oh, no! Your brother was baptized on Easter and that was three
hours.

Me: No, it wasn't.

Mom: Well, a quick ceremony will do.

I gathered my purse and keys and put on my poncho, ready to leave.

Mom: (seriously) was going to sneak him over to the Cathedral. Katie
and I were going to baptize him ourselves! (critically) I told your
father that you weren't going to baptize the baby and he said that was your
choice. So I told him I was going to baptize the baby myself and he
said they wouldn't let me at the church; I'd get into trouble. I figured
if worse came to worse, I would just smuggle some holy water out and
baptize him here.

I was in complete shock. My mother was dead serious about the whole
d-i-y baptism. I didn't know what to say. She bounced Charlie up and down
on her knee.

Me: Please don't baptize the baby while we're at dinner.

Mom: (indignantly) Lucky for you, I haven't been in a baptizing mood.

The Path Less Traveled

My mother has Wednesdays off from work. This past Wednesday, my mother decided that we should go to the zoo. "We" included her, me, my son, and my brother and sister. Marlene was excited about getting a zoo membership because her grandkids can go to the zoo for free with her. I told her Charlie could go to the zoo for free anyways, since he was under two years old.

I had a few misgivings about going to the zoo. First, although it was unusually warm, it was going to rain. I would hate to have Charlie be out in the rain and maybe get sick. Second, I didn't really understand why it was important to take Charlie to the zoo. After all, he wasn't even three weeks old yet. He can barely see more than eight inches away. He's not going to be able to absorb much from a zoo visit.

Although I voiced my concern about the weather, I kept my mouth shut about Charlie being too young for this endeavor. My mother was determined to take her grandson to the zoo; I wasn't about to be the one to rain on her parade.

As we approached the zoo, it seemed that everyone else in Monroe County had the same idea as Marlene. There was no where to park. A zoo employee directed me to park in a ditch. I was not pleased. If it started to rain while we were in the zoo, we would have to hike back in the bad weather. Plus, I didn't trust the ground. It's April; the ground is soft. I didn't want my car to sink in.

I convinced Marlene that maybe the zoo might not be a good idea. We both decided to walk around the beach. My thought on suggesting the beach was that I would never be too far from the car where I couldn't get Charlie back quickly. Plus, I wouldn't be out $5 for admission if it started to pour.

The beach was relatively deserted for such a warm day. The wind was starting to pick up. I got Charlie's stroller out of the trunk. Mom took Charlie out of the car. He was fast asleep. It would be a quiet walk around the park.

As we walked from the parking lot to the beach, the sidewalk split off in two directions. My mother stopped and looked at it. I could tell she was thinking something profound.

Mom: (in a voice indicating she's quoting something) Two paths split off from each other...

Me: Who do you think you are? Robert Frost? That's not how it goes. "Two roads diverged"-

Mom: Listen, when you get to be my age, you can quote who you want, when you want and say whatever you want.

Me: (under my breath) Then it's not really quoting someone, is it?

My mother ignored the last comment.

Apart from the wind, the walk was pleasant. My mother kept looking for "treasures" (see the post from Wed. Dec. 31, 2003), but she couldn't find any. I think she was disappointed they cleaned the beach. As the sky darkened, we headed back to the car.

After all, we took the park less traveled by and it made no difference.

Marlene's Grandson

Note: I will be writing about the last few weeks in snippets as my son sleeps. These posts may not be 100% gramatically accurate, but I think it's important to bring the Marlene to the people by any means possible.

For those of you who may have been hiding in a cave for the past three weeks, I finally gave birth to my son, Charles Wallace, on April 2nd. I was in labor for about 10 hours before the doctor decided that Charlie would be born by Cesarian section. Marlene was there with me for most of the labor and for the delivery.

April 2 was also the date of the death of the pope. Right away, my mother said this was "a sign". I'm not sure what this means.

As my mom sat by my bedside, as I weathered contractions, she ate a bag of cheesy popcorn. It was distracting.

My mother also knew half the staff at the hospital. She either worked with them at St. Mary's or, and this is scary, they were present at the birth of my youngest brother. The physician's assistant on duty assisted with the birth of Patrick. The woman was very nice to me. She patiently waited to put me on a internal fetal monitor. I kept apologizing to her because the contractions were so strong that I could not fully cooperate.

When I left the hospital the following Tuesday, the physician's assistant stopped in. She said I was nothing like my mother because I was calm during the labor, surgery and delivery. She told me that when my mom came in for Patrick's birth that she gave the physician's assistant "grey hairs", as well as everyone involved with the delivery. It was one of the worst deliveries the phys. assistant attended. "You fell far from the tree, kiddo," the assistant told me.

I have other fun stories from the hospital. One afternoon, Marlene came up to visit. All the rooms are equipped with these chairs that recline. I think they are supposed to be for the support person to sleep in, if he is staying with the mother. Anyway, my mother sat in the chair and put it in the reclining position. She started to struggle and giggled.

Mom: "Kim, I'm stuck."

Me: "What am I supposed to do?" I think this happened the day after surgery. I was drugged up and wasn't really supposed to be lifting anything, much less my mom.

She wiggled around some more in the seat and tried to reach for the handle to fix the chair. She couldn't get it into the upright position.

Mom: (in distress) "I'm stuck!"

Me: "Do you want me to call in a nurse? She'll come in to help."

Mom: "No! I would be so embarrassed."

My mother struggled a minute or two more. The nurse came in to check on me.

Nurse: "How are you doing, Kimberly?"

Me: "Um, okay." Pause. "Could you help my mom out of the recliner?"

The nurse looked at my mother in disbelief, walked over to the chair and put it back into its upright position.

Nurse: "How's that?"

Mom: "Um, okay."

Meanwhile, I clutched my coughing pillow over my new incision. I thought I was going to burst it open because I was laughing so hard.

My mother should get her honorary degree from clown college for that stunt.