Warning: Shameless pimping...

...about to occur.

The following essay (yes, it's mine) was published several months ago on Musing Mama, a site run by a group of creative, talented and seriously multi-tasking women. We're all moms — some working, some stay-at-home — and we offer candid (sometimes humorous, sometimes poignant) descriptions of our adventures in motherhood.

So come visit! Our essays update every Tuesday, as do our reviews and art/photo gallery. (Colleen, of The Delaney Diaries, also writes there.)

Tomorrow's topic -- Friendship among moms: Most mamas will tell you they couldn't get by without their girlfriends, but as in every good relationship, these friendships take time. From the wooing and dating of new friends to keeping up with old ones, it's a commitment some moms have trouble making.

Here's my sample. It ran in November, but still applies, especially the closer we get to deer-hunting season. Sigh...

Mama drama: A tale of Merlot
Written by Cathy
Tuesday, 14 November 2006

An Evening at The Asylum — or, more aptly — Why I Drink on Monday Nights or — Why I LOATHE Deer-Hunting Season

Cast:

CATHY: full-time reporter, part-time wife (on a particularly successful day) and yearly hunting widow — and thereby deserving of top billing.

HUBS: Cathy’s spouse and contributor of the genes that frequently prompt small son to drink from the dog bowl. Hubs is a photographer. He’s also an avid hunter.

TOOTIE: 3 1/2-year-old with a flair for drama.

E-MAN: 20-month-old who is often the cause of sister’s drama.

[Evening opens with the drive home from day care. Cathy is behind the wheel. Hubs, who spends each weekend shooting football, is now off on Mondays. He uses his extra free time to go hunting. He sees nothing wrong with setting the alarm at 4 a.m. This is NOT a good start to Cathy’s day. On this particular Monday evening, Tootie demands the classic country radio station.]

TOOTIE: Mama! I want to hear “Kick off your shoes and frow them on the floor!” (Reference to Don Williams’ “Louisiana Saturday Night,” Tootie's current favorite song. Yes, her parents are hicks.)

CATHY: Mama can’t make the song come on, sweetie. We have to wait and see if they’ll play it.

[Cathy, who has just filed a story on a pregnant gorilla, is trying to remember whether she spelled the gorilla’s name correctly. Was it “Sekani” or “Sakani?” Hmm...]

TOOTIE: Mama! Play “Kick off your shoes!”

CATHY: [Now wondering whether her editor will cut out the amusing description of the pregnant gorilla’s fascination with her enlarged breasts.] We just have to wait, doodlebug. I can’t make it play.

[In an effort to distract offspring, Cathy begins singing with the song that IS playing.]

CATHY: [Loudly and with forced cheer.] We’ll all be drinking that free bubble-ubb and eatin’ that rainbow stew...

TOOTIE: No! Don’t sing! You’re not a radio girl. Only radio girls sing! YOU CAN’T SING!!!

[Cathy offers fruit snacks, thereby breaking a promise to herself to cut back on the children’s sugar intake. Blissful silence, however, is brief.]

TOOTIE: [Wailing.] Mommeeee! Etan broke my pink sunglasses! They’re brooooooooken!

E-MAN: [Clutching dismantled sparkly pink shades and looking mildly amused.] Glassissss? Glassissss? No-no-no-no-no!
[Cathy makes an impulsive decision to run through the liquor store drive-through.]

TOOTIE: Why are we turning here? Is this McDonald’s? I want a Happy Meal. A Happy Meal with a ballerina.

CATHY: [Addressing young male clerk.] Yes, please, I’d like a small bottle of the Yellowtail Merlot.

TOOTIE: [Pointing to St. Pauli Girl poster plastered to the drive-through window.] Is that a mommy? Do we get a sucker? Do they have suckers?

YOUNG MALE CLERK: They’re cute. [He points to the children, who now appear positively rapt and angelic.] How far apart are they?

CATHY: Just two years. We’ve been busy! [She is referring to the family’s hectic lifestyle, but it’s clear from the clerk’s expression that he has interpreted this declaration differently — and perhaps a bit more literally — than intended.]

CATHY: [Now flustered and blushing.] Um, yeah, well, can I make that a large bottle?

TOOTIE: Do they have suckers? Where are the suckers?!! Mama, does that mommy in the picture wear a bra too? Where is her bra?

[Drive home is made unbearable due to the fact that no lollipops were handed out by the young male clerk, who clearly didn’t realize the importance of adding to Cathy’s children’s sugar intake.

[Door to The Asylum is flung open by Tootie, who wants to watch the Angelina Ballerina DVD. Her life, she implies, has been ruined by her mother’s decision to buy wine rather than cheeseburgers.

TOOTIE: Where are my tights? I need my tights so I can dance with Angelina. I NEED my TIGHTS!

E-MAN: [Standing hopefully at the pantry door.] Nack? Nack?

CATHY: No, no more snacks. Mommy’s making dinner.

[Phone rings. It’s Hubs, who’s calling to say he’s on the way home. It’s a 2-hour drive.]

HUBS: So, how are things going?

E-MAN: Nack! Nack!

TOOTIE: Mommy! I can’t find my tights!

E-MAN: Nack! Nack!

CATHY: E-man, no. No more nack. I mean snacks. No more snacks. Tootie — your tights are in your top dresser drawer, just where they always are. [Gets back on the phone.] We’re fine. Can I call you after they’re in bed?

[Phone rings again, but Cathy ignores it. Later, when she checks her voicemail, she’ll learn that her editor called with questions about her gorilla story: “Who’s the father?” and “Are you sure you spelled Sekani correctly?”

CATHY: [To herself.] Like I can remember my own name, let alone that of the gorilla who impregnated a member of his troop. Do male gorillas hunt? And if they do, does Sekani (Sakani?) know what she’s in for?

TOOTIE: Mama! Etan’s froing his ravioli!

E-MAN: NIGH MAN! NIGH MAN! (Translation: “Wild Man!” His daddy taught him to call himself that. Damn sense of humor.)

TOOTIE: STOP IT, ETAN!

E-MAN: NIGH MAN!

[More Chef Boyardee sails across the table and gloms onto the recently painted pale yellow walls.]

TOOTIE: I need a frink!

CATHY: [To herself.] So do I. [She pours the first glass of wine.]

E-MAN: NIGH MAN! NIGH MAN!

TOOTIE: Mama, what’s Molly doing?

[The dog, who appears to be throwing up, is hastily ushered outside.]

TOOTIE: Why is Molly outside? When can she come back in? I want her to sleep in MY room.

E-MAN: Woof woof! Woof woof! [More ravioli now decorates the walls.]
[Phone rings. Someone is calling to tell Cathy she has won a cruise. FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY!}

NOTE TO AUDIENCE: Cathy’s dream vacation involves a spa that ensures weight loss and peaceful retrospection. Alone.

[Two hours later, the children and walls have been scrubbed, as have the dishes. Tootie, who insists on wearing tights and ballet slippers instead of pajamas, is reading in bed. E-man is asleep — for the time being. The dog is dozing next to the couch. This is when Hubs strolls in.]

HUBS: Hey! I saw three bucks today. Lots of doe too. [Notices the half-empty wine bottle.] Save any for me? That was a long drive back.

[His wife graciously decides not to throw the bottle at his head. But only because she’s consumed two very full glasses.]