Memories of 1313 Broadview Drive

I'm not particularly fond of husbands as men go. The two I had were not inclined to training, had their own agenda, and it didn't include me. That is with the exception of bearing children, cooking, and cleaning house. All of which left me on my own much of the time. Since we lived in a neighborhood of younger married couples there were several mothers in the same situation so I started a weekly coffee.(This is where I earned the nickname of Pearl Mesta, the hostess with the mostest). The kids could play in relative safety (albeit my little girl did manage to lead a posse of little ones behind a large arrangement of various plants in the living room. She was armed with a nail file which was a no-no. After everyone had left, I discovered my 10 foot tall rubber tree which had formerly been flourishing, now had a naked stalk about as high as her little hands could reach with her on tippy-toe. That poor plant never recovered). We did have another incident that comes to mind, the little girl from next door, same age of 4, was playing nearby with the rest of the kids when her mother jumped up from the table and said, "spit it out Mary Beth! Spit it out now!" And little Mary Beth, with huge blue eyes, looks up to her mom, opens her mouth, and out pops.......Her Tongue!" This type of mother/daughter exchange seems to have been a routine communication for them. Mary Beth seemed nonplussed.

And then there's the time my little boy, about 3, was seen running starkers down the street. Thank goodness one of my coffee buddies saw him and he was brought safely to home. More on that one but another time.