You Can Go Home....Again

"Psst...psst," my mom hissed at me. We were just sitting down to the church coffee hour on Memorial Day Sunday.

"I need to speak with you. Privately," my mom whispered.

I was pretty sure I was in trouble. Despite being over 40, not having lived at home in close to twenty years, and having kids of my own, I still get in trouble. A lot. Like, all the time. Over the past year, I've gotten in trouble for talking to the boys at the race, blogging about her, not getting her eye drops ordered when she was intubated, being a smart mouth......

I didn't do it.

So I asked. Was this private conversation about something I had done?

"Privately," my mom whispered again.

OK, so not me. And then I was happy, because it meant one of my siblings had done something. Despite being over 40, not having lived at home in close to twenty years, and having kids of my own, I still loooove when my siblings get in trouble. Even better, I love when I know that they're in trouble but they don't know they're in trouble.

I scooted my chair closer to my mom's chair, which is apparently what "privately" meant to my mom, because she spilled.

Which reminds me. Mom - stop reading. I don't want to get in trouble.

Back to the story.

"I think," my mom breathed, "that your sister is pregnant. And she's hiding it from me."

Now, here is where you ask if there's something undesireable about my sister being pregnant. Maybe she's thirteen years old. Or 83. Or two weeks postpartum. Or a man.

No. To all of it. Sister is thirtysomething. She has two children of a good age to be expecting a third. She and her husband make a good living. They have a house.

But my mom told Sister, after Baby #2, that she was getting too old to help with childcare and thus would not help with a third baby.

Hence the covert pregnancy.

Can you blame my mom for refusing to help with Baby #3? I mean, Sister nearly killed my mom last fall by giving her new baby my mom's name. Imagine the power Sister could wield with a third child.

And not only is Sister pregnant, my mom continued, but Sister is so far pregnant that she knows the baby's sex. The new baby is a boy.

Why. (That's not a punctuation error) Why does my mom suspect Sister is very - secretly - pregnant?

Because Sister sold all her baby stuff at the church flea market the day before. All her girl baby stuff.

I mean, how do you argue with that logic?

And thank God my mom kept Sister's secret pregnancy private. How embarrassing would it be to have my fellow church members know that Sister, who is thirtysomething, hasn't lived at home in close to fifteen years, and has kids already, is expecting baby #3?

Thankfully, my mom saved what is truly the pinnacle of my family's achievements for her public conversation with our fellow congregants.

See, we have a family member I'll call Family Member One. Family Member One allowed Family Member Two access to Family Member One's funds. And Family Member Two used said funds to buy what can only be described as pornographic video games.

So yes. A table's worth of people at the church coffee hour came to understand how a member of my family so desired the supreme combination of graphic sex and Atari that they pilfered money that had been entrusted to them for other purposes.

Yep. The secret pregnancy is way worse then the ill-gotten porn. Absolutely.

I went home. I cornered Husband in the vegetable garden. I told him one of the following scenarios was true: My sister is secretly pregnant with a boy or FM2 bought porn with FM1's credit card.

Husband's face says it all.

Later, at the family Memorial Day party, having no shame whatsoever, I grabbed Sister and told her my mom's theory about her gravidity. You know. While she drank a Yeungling. I also made sure - while we were in front of my mom - that I asked Sister if she should be drinking that, eating that. Nobody thought I was funny, but I did, and really, isn't that all that matters?

And it was as we sat down to enjoy the (figurative) fruits of the party that my mom realized she forgot the birthday presents for Sister Beta, whom we were celebrating along with our veterans. She also forgot her stethoscope.

'Cause a party ain't a party without a stethoscope, am I right?

Actually, despite Sister Beta having had two doctor's appointments and one chest X-ray in the wake of her recent pneumonia, it was decided by all that it would best for my mom to listen to Sister Beta's lungs. At the party.

'Cause a party really ain't a party without a little pulmonary auscultation.

So my mom sternly dressed down my dad for forgetting the gifts and stethoscope. And I'm sure you all correctly guessed that my dad just said "OK" and sipped his beer.

My mom stepped out of the party to "use the bathroom." What she really did was secretly - or should I say privately? - make the one hour round trip back to her house to retrieve the forgotten items. Critical to her plan was that my dad never know that she left the party. For an hour.

Where's Mom?

I don't know why her departure had to be kept a secret. I don't know why my sister's suspected pregnancy had to be kept a secret. I do know the porn should have been kept secret.

She went home, right?

When she returned, she loudly proclaimed that she now had the forgotten presents and stethoscope. And that she had seen some very ominous clouds in the sky.

"In the bathroom?" I asked. Because I'm very helpful.

"There's a skylight. Have you seen it?" she asked.

"In the first floor bathroom? Really?" I asked.

Is she back yet?

Then she whispered to me. Had my dad noticed her absence? Did he know she ran home?

Well, I pointed out, if he didn't know before that you weren't "in the bathroom" for an hour,  the announcements about the presents, stethoscope, and clouds certainly tipped him off.

I give up...

So yes. Now I'm in trouble for (still) having a smart mouth. Despite being over 40, not having lived at home in close to twenty years, and having kids of my own.

Now I really, really hope my sister is secretly pregnant. Or buying gamer porn with my mom's credit card.

Yes, Santa. I've been a good girl...