This question brought to me at 7:30 am…
Right after an argument with my 6 year old over why the old woman swallowed a fly.
The evil culprit?
A pregnant newlywed at the grocery store.
Jolly Jill approached me as I was sifting through the custom candy and Hershey’s chocolate bunnies to engage in a verbal back and forth.
Was it my charming way of shoving a granny with my shopping cart so I could get the last bag of cat food?
Maybe it was my sparkling personality shining through when I told a 3 year boy with a cap gun that I was gonna put a cap in his…well, you know what, if he didn’t point that thing at his own mother.
Honestly, I’m not sure what it was about me having my rear end up in the air while I choose my Easter grass and my daughter shouted, “Candy!” that had Happy Harriet deciding I was a good candidate for conversation.
Because anyone with 2 functioning brain cells should be able to tell just by looking at my attire that the last thing I find about being a mom is romance.
Everything I was wearing screamed, “I’ve been awake since 5am cleaning hair balls and my sons just told me they need candy for school by 8am. There’s no way I’m getting dressed up or wearing make-up for this.”
So I just looked up at my enemy, nodded, smiled and went back to squeezing the pink peeps.
Was brilliant Belinda quick to catch the dismissal?
“My husband and I have been married for 11 1/2 months after having dated in college,” she told me as I started re-weaving Easter baskets.
“No! Get outta here,” I muttered.
“No…really. Where did you meet your husband?” She asked while she rubbed her Buddha belly.
“REALLY” she squealed. “No, in college” I said, trying to get the jelly beans out of the 4 year old’s mouth.
“Wow! Like us” she exclaimed.
“So you said.”
“When my Johnny found out we were expecting he named a star after me. Isn’t that amazing? How many kids do you have?”
“Six” I replied scrapping peanuts off lil’ Missy’s chin.
“SIX?!” Oh I want 10 kids just like my husband. What did your husband give you when you got pregnant?”
“A watch, a 20 year calendar and the link to Russia’s illegal prozac website” I answered trying to re-wrap the snickers bar my daughter was eating.
“Oh…you’re so funny!” She laughed.
“Can I ask you something since you’re older and wiser?”
“Older than what?” I asked.
“Maybe you could give me an idea for an anniversary gift to ask for for myself” she said while my jaw was on the floor.
“I’m not the right person to ask.” I mumbled picking up my mouth. “My last anniversary I got a hair dryer and a bath mat.”
“Nuh uh…” she cried out looking horrified.
AHA! Now I know how rid myself of Polly Perfect…so I continue…
“You know what’s romantic after six kids” I asked. “Finding your concealer brush, fuzzy hand cuffs and your Mistress Mindy high heels in the toilet. Those are the days I greet my husband at the door after work and say, ‘Take me I’m yours!’
Now I’m on a roll as Polly Perfect opens her mouth and starts to drool.
“And by the time you have your third child,” I continue, “A romantic dinner is a drive-thru run at Taco Bell and the only lighted candles you’ll see is the one in the bathroom used for odor control.”
And before I could explain what “Rinse cycle and tumble dry” means in married speak, she had turned around, pulled out her cell phone and called her lawyer.
What? What I’d say?