Eden M. Kennedy

mission accomplished, pal

Eden M. Kennedy is the co-author (with Alice Bradley) of the book Let's Panic About Babies! (St. Martin's Press, 2011).

A former college-radio DJ, Mrs. Kennedy has driven cross-country six times in a 1973 Volkswagen Bug and enjoys standing on her head.

Currently she works a straight job and is just about finished writing her first novel.

What Have We Learned Here Today?

Well, I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is that I got back home from a weekend away where I got an average of five hours of sleep a night and then thought, "Gee, while I'm not at all in my right mind, I should definitely do some laundry." Then I ate a bag of Fritos and let a red Crayola melt all over every last piece of clothing I'd put into the dryer. My favorite jeans, Jackson's two new pairs of school pants. The inside of the dryer a striped, waxy pink. It was all too much to comprehend. I had to go sit down.

Then I took a nap.

Groggily, I went to pick up Jackson from school. He got in the back with Cookie and Peewee and I said, "I have some bad news. I forgot to check your pockets and I accidentally washed your red crayon and it, like, tie-dyed a whole load of clothes."

"My favorite red crayon? The one I brought from school? That I won for guessing how many crayons were in the estimating jar?"

Oh, dear.

"That was my favorite crayon!" Buh, buh, buh!
"I promised it I'd never let anything happen to it!" *sob*
"It was so --" *gasp* "-- special to me!"

"We can get you another one," I said, stupidly. Stupid, insane, absurd mother.

"There will never be another crayon like MY! RED! CRAYON!" Buh-huh-huuuuuu.

Five minutes later we got home and parked in the garage. I got into the back seat and hugged him and wiped all the tears off his face, my lord so many tears, it was like he'd shampooed with Visine. Actually, I felt like he was starting to milk it a little, but you know, I'd been gone for a few days, he was allowed. After a few minutes he calmed down.

"I loved my red crayon," he said.

"I know," I said. "Want a piggyback ride into the house?"

He got inside and indulged in a little more moping, and then he said, "Where's the laundry basket?" I opened the laundry closet and showed him where I'd abandoned it. He burst out laughing.

"Look at your white pants!" he cackled.

As I write this I am soaking the whole ruined load with a gallon each of every stain formula laundry soap in the solar system.

But the good news is, I found my little camera! I got back to LAX and I was digging through all my bags looking for my iPod so I'd have some music for the drive home, and I opened up a pocket in my purse -- you know, the pocket that usually holds my little camera? And there was my camera. Yeah. I'd been carrying it around for weeks going, "Damn, I wish I had my camera."

So what have we learned here today? Besides check your pockets? Nothing, that's it! Check your pockets, folks! CHECK YOUR FUCKING POCKETS.