Sunday, April 15, 2007

One Hundred Years of Solitude -- yeah, I wish

Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is not a mother.

I know that he's not a mother for several reasons: for one, he's a man. But more importantly, a mother knows that you're lucky to get five minutes of solitude in an average day, and not all at once either. One hundred years of solitude can sound pretty good on a bad day. On a day when you can't even get two minutes alone for a pee without little hands knocking at the door and a litany of "Mooooom, Leah's being mean to me." "Mom, Rachel hit me with a Barbie, and it HURT." And so on. You know how it is.

One of the most useful inventions of the last century is the bathroom door lock. it's right up there with the automobile and the telephone. I've locked myself in the bathroom to make phone calls. I've locked myself in the bathroom to put on make-up without 'helpers'. God help me, I've even hid in there to sit on the closed toilet lid and just enjoy a minute of not having little hands grabbing at me or needing me to do something.

Yesterday the girls were playing some complicated imaginary game in the living room. Leah was a puppy and Rachel was wearing a long dress-up dress and carrying a baby doll. Nature called. I told them I was going into the bathroom and not to disturb me unless it was an emergency.

I had no sooner sat down than the knocking started. It was Rachel. "Mom, I need you".

"Mommy's going potty right now Rachel, I'll come and see you when I come out."

"But I need you now."

"Didn't I ask you to leave me alone unless it was an emergency?"

"But it is an emergency. I'm pregnant."

Well, after having 2 kids I tend to pee when I laugh anyway, so at least I was in the right place. After I had finished I went out in the hall to see Rae with a doll-shaped lump underneath her dress. "See, Mommy, I'm having a baby".

At four years old it's pretty funny. I just hope that we don't have the same conversation again when she's sixteen.


  1. Well, I guess it would be an emergency if you all of a sudden went from not pregnant at all to ready to deliver.

    Your kids and mine would get along well, I think.

  2. My immediate thought at reading your story was the same as yours--"better now than 10 years from now!"

  3. Wow, you'll need to start bracing yourself for her teenage years now! She's going to give you a run for your money! She's hilarious!

  4. FUNNY STUFF! ~ jb///

  5. Anonymous6:44 PM

    Gabriel García Marquez was born on March 6, 1928 in Aracataca, a town in Northern Colombia, where he was raised by his maternal grandparents in a house filled with countless aunts and the rumors of ghosts. But in order to get a better grasp on García Márquez's life, it helps to understand something first about both the history of Colombia and the unusual background of his more