If Life Is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? Read Online Free PDF Page A

shattering experience. She found a “gem” who was willing to sit with her children if she left explicit instructions. The first day she left the following note:
    "Greg gets 1 tsp. of pink medicine in refrigerator at 8 AM. and before lunch. He has impetigo, so wash your hands good with soap and water and don't let him use anyone else's glass.
    "Paula gets 1 tsp of orange medicine in brown bottle at 8 A.M. and at lunch. There's plenty of lunch meat, peanut butter, etc., for lunch.
    "Paula has to be taken to the potty every two to three hours. There's a potty seat upstairs and a small chair in Rec. Room.
    "Don't let dog in the chewing gum. He craves it but has to be taken to the vet to remove. He gets pills once a day (not birth control) for slight infection. Get Frank (who is in and out all day long) to hold him so he will not bite.
    “Take messages. Don't use toilet in utility room. It bubbles. If you have questions, call me. Tell them you are one of the nurses if they ask.”
    When she arrived home, the door was marked with lamb's blood and there was a large quarantine sign tacked on it. The sitter had fled.
    You have only to work once in your life to know that “Today's Woman on the Go” is pure fiction. Maybe they got the captions under the pictures switched. Maybe she wore the long flowing pajamas at work and the hard hat at home. Heaven knows, home is a Hard Hat area.
    Where were the pictures showing her racing around the kitchen in a pair of bedroom slippers, trying to quick-thaw a chop under each armpit and yelling like a shrew, “All right, you guys, I know you're in the house. I can hear your stomachs growling.”
    According to the article, all you needed was a worksheet, with everyone in the family having his or her own responsibility, leaving Mother time not only to hold down a full-time job, but to paint, sew her own coats, ride horses, and run for the U.S. Senate.
    It wasn't like that at all. I called home one evening and said, “Let me speak to your father.”
    “He's at the dentist,” said my son. “He chipped his tooth this morning on the frozen bread.”
    “So who was on the worksheet to defrost the bread?”
    “I was, but I forgot my key, got locked out and stayed all night with Mike. The milkman got locked out too. There are twelve half-gallons of milk in the garage.”
    “Where's your sister?”
    “I made her bed with her in it. She's not speaking. There are wet clothes in the washer and they're covered with a brown rash. We're defrosting the spareribs under your hair dryer. Guess who forgot to put the dog out when he came home? When are you coming home?”
    “I'll be home tomorrow. Do you miss me?”
    “No, but according to the worksheet, you're on for dishes.”
    Sharing responsibility is what the entire movement to free women is all about. If women are ever to be appreciated, a husband should drive a car pool... just once.
    Transporting children is my husband's twenty-sixth favorite thing. It comes somewhere between eating lunch in a tea room and dropping a bowling ball on his foot.
    “Remember,” I warned him before his first attempt, “they are small children... not mail sacks. That means you have to bring the car to a complete stop and open the door for them. Don't shout and be sure to give all six of them their own window. Good luck.”
    An hour-and-a-half later as he staggered through the door I said,
    “So, what took you so long?”
    “To begin with, old paste breath didn't want to get into the car. He said his mother didn't want him to ride with strangers. Then the name tag that was pinned to whatshemame s dress fell off and she didn't know who she was. Debbie cried for three blocks because she left her Bionic Woman lunchbox on the swings. Cecil... I guess that's his name... the one who sits there and rebuttons his sweater all the time trying to make it come out even...”
    “That's Cecil.”
    “He told me he lived at the Dairy Queen.”
    “So what took you so