Loving and Caring Mothers

These are turbulent times we live in, sometimes—just sometimes—we may even need a seatbelt…            -Ed Sorrenson

It was hotter than usual in Brooklyn, and it hadn’t rained in what seemed like forever. Tension was high in Park Slope, despite the fact that this was the first summer that civil unions of gay couples were permitted. Over on 5^th Avenue, a row of premium strollers all sat outside Thanks-a-Latte, like a row of Harley Davidson motorcycles outside a Hell’s Angels hangout.

Inside, 4 of the 7 tables have been pulled together to accommodate the 8 new mothers and their fresh-out- the-womb-offspring.

‘So Sven and I have decided to nix the nursery, we had to have somebody come paint the walls back to creampuff eggshell.’ One mom with 2 inch bleach blonde hair styled with putty said after taking a sip of her decaf soy latte.

‘Yeah, I read that you should definitely have the baby sleeping with the parents, it is apparently really good for the baby’s sense of self-worth.’ Another mom from across the table throws out; she has brown hair that is stick straight and absolutely no bangs. For some reason, she’s drinking black coffee

‘That’s totally true, but that’s not why we did it. Me and Sven decided it should stay an art studio, because it’s really important that the baby sees that my passion for the viola and Sven’s passion for water colors is still intact. I mean, the last thing we want is the baby to not truly value self-expression.’ Blondie responds, then takes another sip and grimaces a little, it seems she doesn’t like soy.

‘We threw away our Ikea crib, even though it’s super cute. We have been reading Bullinger’s new book, Malawian Child, and it basically says that kids in Malawi are super great and never cry and that you should try to recreate the Malawian experience totally, so the baby is sleeping on hay now. Plus we got this really great space heater to keep the temperature in the mid-90s at all time, and Sergio had some guy wire up grow-lights so he gets plenty of high quality sunlight.’ A stunningly beautiful woman sitting next to the black coffee drinker adds, she has a guava smoothie and dirty blond hair in a messy little bun; she's still in her yoga attire. All the moms flatten their eyebrows and nod their heads intently, a few give ‘mmms’ or ‘yeahs’ of approval.

‘Didn’t Bullinger say in Babies are the Future’s Lovers that they need a crib to establish groundedness as an individual so that they can have meaningful and mutually beneficial relationships, because that’s definitely more important to me than how much October cries.’ A slightly plumper mom chimes in after a few seconds of reflection and sip of her cappuccino that she is drinking out of her own red, handmade mug.

‘In the preface of his new book he pretty much says that times are changing and with new times come new parenting techniques. He is just such a good writer. Sergio saw him at a book reading in Hartford. He said he is such a good guy in person.’ Guava smoothie retorts firmly but calmly.

‘Jen will go to a baby-retreat Bullinger is hosting next month in Vermont, I cannot believe she found tickets. It’s a weekend of total infant bonding and education.’ A mom with a French accent says,  she has bright red curly hair to her shoulders and has a double shot of espresso with nutmeg and a slight pour of condensed milk, but she hasn’t drank any of it yet.

‘Where is Jen anyways? She wasn’t at baby yoga this morning either.’ Guava smoothie inquires to the group.

‘She said she had some extra stuff to do today on g-chat last night and that she might not make it, I think she is still trying to get pre-school in order.’ Cappuccino in mug says. The mention of pre-school clearly raises the cortisol levels in the mom-posse.

‘She is sooo sweet, I always miss her when she’s not here.’ Another mom, with Asian style bangs and green tea says, in hopes to diffuse the tension that is clearly building. All the moms agree.

Meanwhile, Jen is back at her Brownstone on 8^th Avenue, with her baby strapped to her chest and a smartphone up to her head. She appears disheveled.

‘No I will not fucking wait, I was waiting 8 minutes ago, I waited on Tuesday when I called and you fucking dipshits did absolutely nothing to help me!’ A pause for a moment

‘No, that is total bullshit, me and my husband timed it, we waited 13 fucking minutes, and we ended up not making it to our reservations at our favorite Thai restaurant on time, and we didn't get complementary ice teas and we were the fucking laughing stock of Park Slope.’

‘What do you mean? Ugghhh! You are a total fucking moron, how about you go fuck yourself and I speak to your boss?!’

‘Well then let me talk to your boss’s boss, because you obviously have no fucking clue and no power or responsibility. Jesus fucking Christ, why don’t you just work at Dunkin Donuts if you don’t give a shit about ever moving forward?’

‘No, that is unacceptable. I will stay on this phone until I have a satisfactory resolution, you fucking peon.’ As she finishes, she jostles the baby strapped to her chest to comfort it.

‘Alright good.’

‘Heeey Tony, this is Jen Caruthers, yeah, oh I am doing great. There seems to be some kind of mix up, I received a g-mail that Lance was on the waiting list for Lundham’s Academy and I don’t see how that could be.’

‘No, no, no. The system has it wrong. His BAT scores are off the charts, he got the triangle block in the triangle hole on the first try, Tony. And my sister’s daughter Thayla went, so Lance is a legacy.’

‘That’s absurd, Lance is not a crier, he was just a little nervous at his interview and I didn’t get to breast feed him before. He just wouldn’t eat.’

‘Is there any way we could at least get a retest?’

‘No, Applingers is not a viable option, Lundham’s is perfect for Lance.’

‘Tony please.’

‘Please, there must be something you can do.’

‘Oh, Tony, this is just unfair and, and, atrocious. It’s fucking atrocious.’

‘Don’t tell me to relax, I have Lance’s future in my fucking hands.’

‘Okay, when he’s not a fully developed and expressive individual you can have that on your fucking conscience! You will be hearing from my lawyer you fucking cunt!’

She says as she slams her thumb onto the end button on the touchscreen of her phone.