I think I killed Rosie.
She was under for a very long time.
I probably should call a lawyer and start preparing my defense.
But what would my defense be? I was too tired in the evening to fold clothes? We had the stomach flu? The Hunni was gone for two weeks–unexpectedly? I am lazy? I took a hot bath and locked the door instead of attending to Rosie (or anybody else in this household’s needs)? Would any of these statements clear my conscience and my good name from her death?
Then last night I had a dream, and in my dream I saw Rosie. My two girls went up to Rosie, and she put her arms around them. Then she looked me straight in the eye and said these unforgettable words, “Laundry is WAR!! never, Never, NEVER give up!” And with that war chant, she slowly faded away.
Today when I woke up, we all folded laundry. It was a gorgeous day outside, but all the kiddos folded laundry. The telephone rang and it was a good friend, but we folded laundry. Neighbor kids banged (they never knock, they bang) on the door and asked the kiddos to please come out and play, but we folded laundry. And when we heard the neighborhood’s new pogo stick (anything new on this block belongs to the neighborhood, not to an individual. Once it breaks, it belongs to us–even if we didn’t originally buy it. If the Hunni fixes it, then it goes back to general ownership of the neighborhood.) bouncing up and down outside of our back door, we folded laundry. And when a neighbor boy beat my Scout’s record number of pogo stick bounces, we still folded laundry.
And when my kids asked me why I was so mean, I said, “Laundry is WAR! never, Never, NEVER give up!”
One Mean Mom,