Diary of a Mad Housewife

The Scouts

Below is a guest blog by Mo McAndrews, a dear old friend of mine. Although our paths in life have gone different directions with the move of her family and the end of our scout group, we have recently reconnected. Mo sent me this hilarious story and with her approval, I am posting for all to enjoy... 

Diary of a Mad Housewife

When my dear son was in 5th grade we took him out of Montessori school and moved west to Harvey Oaks. We were invited to join a scout troup from St Wenceslaus. I also became a stay at home mom. I had earned a masters degree and worked as a therapist in an intense hospice job for the past several years.I had worked since the age of 10,so this was a transition. I had trouble channeling my energy and thirst for intellect into my life of making beds, wiping butts, and making pb&j's.

My neighbor was a scout leader and she asked me to host a meeting.I was pretty much psycho at this point in my stay at home mom career. I wanted to be Martha times 10. I decided the boy scout troop would enjoy making elaborate ginger bread houses.

I threw myself into the endeavor. I had purchased a Pampered Chef mold. This was one of my limited social outlets; Pampered Chef, and about everyone else's parties selling stuff. This wonderful mold made two of a four-sided house. This meant that for 10 kids I needed to make 20 batches of gingerbread, bake them perfectly in clay molds, and then glue them together. In order to glue them together I needed the perfect concoction of frosting (requires college level chemistry). This took abundantly more time and effort than anticipated and the house, children, husband, and basic grooming were neglected during his intense period of focused energy.

There were dishes and frosting and dishes and frosting everywhere. There were some 3 a.m. nights. There was a lot riding on the outcome of this project. I was my own boss. Could I live up to myself? My annual evaluation was not looking good. Alas the night before things were seeming hopeful. I needed to purchase 15 lbs of white frosting, candy and stay up until 3 a.m. glueing gingerbread and cleaning my pathetic house, but I felt I could be a presentable suburban housewife. So the night BEFORE the event, I went out to get supplies the moment my husband arrived home. I needed $500 worth of candy and a few other items. I returned home to find there was now 24 inches of snow on the driveway and someone had parked in my spot. I cursed my husband and his friends.

I parked on the street and trudged through the snow in my big sweats and frosting and batter-caked hair. I walked in the door and lights, camera, action; the entire scout troop was there one night earlier than expected. And there was one mom early. Not any MOM. THE PERFECT MOM. The situation was so UN-MARTHA. Nothing was done. The houses lay in pieces. I cannot even remember the rest. It was traumatic and my memory is blocked. TRAUMA with regard to the actual activity of building gingerbread houses with boy scouts.

What I do remember was the chaos-snowbound boys with no organized

activity. Most of all, I recall going into my son's room to find your dear son, Zach Lane, jumping on my son's bed (10 years old), sqautting in a male power stance, and screaming as I walked in "Wherrrrrrrrrre's thththththththe BeeeeeeeeeeeeEER??". I had visualized this night for months and it was just not quite on the Mo PLAN for Christmas memories. But it was a memory I haven't forgotten and it did give me a needed kick in the arse to move on from my want-to-be Martha ways.