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November 12th, 1999

I'm a Human Snowblower

Okay, I am too tired for this!  <sigh>  But that's okay.  What else do I have to do?  (Not counting the laundry, mopping, yardwork....damn, now I am tired all over again.)

So today I spent a great bulk of my freetime spamming a million different Parent Magazines with my words of wisdom and general crap in the hopes they will feature me.  I need to be featured.  I need to be in a glass case somewhere with lights strategically pointed at my glorious head!  I need to be noticed!!   Notice meeeeeeee!

I seek fame, fortune and notoriety.  Actually, I seek only the match to my black leather boot but I'll take either or.  I'm not too picky.

And now I submit to you a story of a mother in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Oh....wait a minute. Isn't that all of us just about all of the time?  Okay.  Scratch that.  Another whimsical story of life in my house.  Enjoy.

Does anyone in the world own a beanbag chair anymore? I think the Government is trying to cleverly phase them out. I am sure there is an entire bunker full of beanbag chairs at Area 51. The evil implications of these chairs if used during a time of worldwide crisis is staggering.


Every mom in the world can tell the difference between a regular "Mom!" and a "Mommmmm!" that requires you drop all of your buttons and come running.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nick dumped out the bean bag chair."

Well, by this point it is too late. I have run across yards of carpet in my slippers causing just the proper amount of friction to my body. Within moments of entering the “Beanbag Zone”, I am a virtual Frosty the Snowman complete with saddlebags and a lousy temperament.

"Good God."

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Well, I'm just dandy. Thanks for asking. I've been worrying about what I was going to wear to the winter festival."

I retreat to the living room and sit on the couch. What on earth did I ever do in my life, past or present, which left me deserving of such joy and delight? I pick a few Styrofoam balls off my leg and set them on the table. They immediately began to shudder and then leap off the table and into my eye.

My husband comes in from the garage and just stands and stares at me.

I spout a few balls from my mouth. I'm a human snowblower.

"You were right, Mulder. The truth was out there. I should have listened to you."

Nothing is shocking in our house anymore.

"Oh my God, are you okay?"

I can tell by the look on his face that he is desperate to laugh.

"I'm spring cleaning. What are you doing?"

"I was trying to get my gardening glove out of the tree. I think something is nesting in it. Do you want me to get the vacuum?"

"Sure, that would be fine. Hey, real quick question. Can you see me?"

"If you mean will the kids know it is you, the answer is yes. Your rollers are peeking through the top."

"Oh. Okay."

I get up and shuttle to my closet and lock the door.

"Call me when the mothership comes."  



Unless otherwise specified, all material
Copyright 1999 by
Marijke Hildreth



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