4: Harriet Causes Trouble
Originally emailed on Oct. 17, 1997
Miriam walked over yesterday evening to have supper with me and the boys. Flopsy came with her, of course, and you won't believe it but Flopsy heeled the whole way, off-lead. Miriam has gotten serious about dog-training; she belongs to a club now and often can't take the boys on Saturdays because she is always at a show or a competition or doing a special training intensive with the club. Half the time she comes home with some new ribbon Flopsy won doing obedience work, and she complains all the time, "If I'd known how much fun this is, I might not have gotten such a big muscular dog (Flopsy is half Doberman, half Rottweiler, as you recall), but something with a little more zip to her. Then I could teach her agility. Agility is where things get really fun." We saw dogs doing agility at a fundraiser for the Humane Society. It does look fun. The dogs have to climb things and jump through hoops and run through tunnels and weave through poles in a little slalom course. Flopsy, alas, is not an agile dog. She's beautifully athletic and muscular, but she's built for power, not for speed, and she doesn't jump. She is, as Miriam puts is, "very well grounded."
Anyway, Flopsy and Miriam come over, Flopsy heeling like a pro, and wearing a little set of saddle-bags in which are all of her obedience tools, treats and special fetching dumbbells and leashes and balls and whatnot, and Miriam wants to put Flopsy through her paces for me and the boys. I say, "Can't she play with Hot Rod?" and Miriam says, "Playing with Hot Rod can be her jackpot treat after she has a work session." So Flopsy sits beside Miriam, starts walking when Miriam walks, stops and sits when Miriam stops walking. Miriam doesn't say a word. Flopsy fetches a ball, drops it at Miriam's feet, sits next to her again. Flopsy carries a dumbbell for Miriam, puts it on the porch step when Miriam indicates the step with a stick. Miriam tosses the dumbbell into the grass; Flopsy crawls to it on her belly like a Marine. Miriam is directing Flopsy with little hand signals. She throws a half-dozen things onto the sidewalk. "Get the ball, Flopsy." Flopsy gets the ball. "Get the bone, Flopsy." Flopsy gets the bone. The whole time, Hot Rod is standing with her front feet on top of the fence barking and crying because she sees her friend. Hot Rod knows "sit."
I adore Miriam, I must say. I know Harriet thinks she is my best friend, but the truth is Miriam is the one I count on, the one I need to see if I'm having a bad day. Sometimes I feel isolated from my friends because I'm a mother; the ones without kids don't get how important it is. Harriet is like that; she loves to take the boys for a day or the weekend and it's a fun romp for her and she has the energy to make everything a game. She can get them through supper and a bath with Godzilla: the food is Tokyo and they destroy the city while the citizens run and scream. Individual green beans are poor little Japanese citizens and the boys revel in nibbling the bean as if they are snapping off one leg then the other, each arm, and finally the head. When Tokyo is entirely destroyed, the monsters march off to the ocean's shore, where, being reptiles, they shed their skins because eating all the people has made them grow, and then they return to the murky depths from whence they came. "The only thing I can't quite work into the story," says Harriet ruefully, "is why in the world two big lizards should need to have their hair washed."
We had a fight last week about the boys. Harriet and Nona were over, and Mark and Sam were wild all evening, with Harriet's help. When I tried to put them to bed, they didn't want to go. That's typical, but they complained and fought more than usual. It frazzled me. I hate it when they act up in front of other people, and I was frustrated because Harriet and Nona had brought a video for us to watch and I was looking forward to relaxing for a couple of hours, but I needed to get the boys settled quickly or it would be too late to start the movie because I had to be at work at 7:30 in the morning.
Anyway, I was upstairs trying to get the boys into their pajamas and they ran away from me, barreling down the stairs and jumping on Harriet, who laughed and started wrestling with them. I went down and hauled them up again, giving Harriet a withering look, and while I was getting Sam changed, Mark took off. By the time I caught up with Mark, Sam had hidden in the linen closet. He always hides in the linen closet and usually I pretend I can't find him, but this time I marched to the closet, hauling Mark by one arm, opened the door and yanked Sam out from behind a pile of laundry. I pushed them toward the door of their bedroom and yelled, "Bed! Five minutes!"
Mark started to say, "Mom, we were just--"
I said, "I don't want to hear a word, Mark. I'm too mad. Just get in your goddamn bed NOW."
Harriet, who was just coming up the stairs to see if she could give me a hand, said, "Louella, why don't I put them to bed?" in the same tone as a TV cop telling a desperado, "Why don't you just put the gun down and we'll talk?"
"Fine," I said, throwing up my hands. "And I don't want to hear a peep out of you two until morning, got it?"
I sat on the couch and seethed silently until Harriet came down. One thing I like about Nona is she understands the need to seethe silently. She just cast me a sympathetic glance and excused herself to pop some corn.
When Harriet arrived, she said cheerily, "All settled. Shall we start the movie?" Then she looked at me and asked, "What's wrong? Don't let the boys get to you, Louella. They're just full of high spirits, but they'll be asleep in no time at all. I'm glad I was here to help."
I said, "Harriet, if you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have needed help."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean," I said, "you spent the entire evening roughhousing with them, right up until bed time, even though I asked you several times to start settling them down. So when I tried to put them to bed, they were wild, and you encouraged that. And then, when they've finished working my last nerve, you ride in like the White Knight to save the damsel in distress."
"Oh, Louella, we were just having fun. How can you get mad at them for being in high spirits? And here they are, settled in bed, only a half hour late."
"Harriet," I said, "I have to put those boys to bed every night. Long experience has taught me that high spirits after 7:00 can only lead to trouble. And that little half hour means trouble waking them in the morning, and crankiness all day long. Mark especially is like the walking dead if he doesn't get ten hours sleep at night. Why can't you just believe that, as their mother, I know what's best, and back me up instead of undermining me?"
Harriet said, "I did back you up. I told them they should go to bed when you said."
"Harriet," I said, "telling the boys they'd 'better do what the mean old momster says' is not backing me up. You ally yourself with them; that's part of why they love you so much. But I need you to be my ally."
"But, Louella--" Harriet started to say. Nona, coming in with popcorn, interrupted her. "Honey," she said, "why don't you just tell Louella you'll think about what she's said, and you're sorry if anything you've done has made her life more difficult."
Harriet grinned. "Nona, why do you always know the right thing to say? I am sorry, Louella. I just get carried away playing with them."
I said, "Well, I forgive you. Why don't you cue up the movie while I go make up with the boys? And don't eat all the popcorn while I'm gone." But the boys were already asleep, so I had to wait until morning to find out whether everything was OK between us again.
© Copyright 1997-2001 Su Penn. Design by David Dierauer.
