BREAD AND JAM FOR FRANCES
by Russell Hoban and Lillian Hoban
MOTHERHOOD
by Bread and jam for Frances
Did I just serve my baby a jello mold covered in meatballs? What the shit is wrong with me the past few days? I’m all — schmaltzy and muddled.
My hair hurts. My moods are a swing set over a fire.
Wait. I remember this...
Shit.
Am I getting boxed over by my first period seven months postpartum?
NOOOOO. What kind of sick biblical punishment is this?
HELP! Hurry! What’s the secular version of a red tent?
Too late. My legs are stained. Do tampons expire? That’s a weird thing to google.
Oh, maybe I’ll watch some porn! Fun! Owe, my head.
Wait. How much Tylenol gets into breast milk?
*cries
No one needs to see me like this. Certainly not my children. Definitely not my poor husband.
Actually, fuck him. Eat it.
Oh g-d.
That’s it. I’m getting an IUD.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hi, my PMDD has returned with a vengeance and I want to collect my organs and throw them out the window?”
“Sure, no problem. Our next available appointment is in November.”
(horror music plays)
“No.”
“Ma’am?”
“I — I can’t go through this again in 3 weeks.”
“Our next available appointment is in November.”
Fine bitch. You want me to do this again next month? Watch. I’ll end up on stage with hippie death cult at Eli’s. I’ll — I’ll miss match every single sock as it comes out of the laundry and sew them all to the wall! Last night I burnt rice in a rice cooker?! How do you even do that? “I’m —
“I’m sorry. I’m confused.”
“Our next available appointment is in November. Would you like me to book it for you?”
I should’ve done this months ago. Six weeks after Minnie came I even had an appointment. I’m sorry, me. I just didn’t want anyone to touch me. You know? I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to feel —
…like a natural woman
*LAUGHS
I like having choices. I want my jam and to eat it too. Why is my shirt soaked? The baby is up. She’s hungry!
“Ma’am?”
Can’t I take a break from thinking about biology and just live my fucking life for five seconds?
*cries
“Ma’am?”
What did I do before these kids? How did I function like this? I used to take valium. I still have some! FUCKKKK. I can’t pump the baby full of valium. Can I?
“Ma’am?”
“Fine. Yes, November. WHATEVER.”
STRAWBERRY JAM
by Bread and jam for Frances
Jam sounds kinda good, actually.
Send your kids to go skip rope with their biologically unburdened father!
Get in the car. Blast Violent Femmes till you arrive at Monterey Market. Grab fresh flowers and fists full of the season’s last strawberries.
Get home. Get barefoot. Get a knife.
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