Seven long, draining years ago, Nancy Drew Nickerson woke out of a deep sleep.  She thought she had tinkled a bit.  It must have been her imagination because her giant granny panties were dry.  She got out of bed and sat in her favorite chair, picking up one of her many pregnancy related books.  She read for a bit and then stood up.  And that is when it happened.  Her water broke. It was a flood of unending, disappearing placental fluid, gallon upon gallon that absorbed quickly into the carpet and Lazyboy recliner. Nancy freaked. She did what any woman would do who's water broke 6 weeks early. She tiptoed past her sleeping husband, grabbed the portable phone, and called her friend.

Nancy: "BESS! MY WATER JUST BROKE!"

Bess: "What? Ned needs to get you to the hospital NOW!"

Nancy: "Ned is sleeping."

Bess: "You call to tell me your baby is on the way before you tell your husband???? Wake him up! Call your doctor! Get to the ER! This baby is going to come fast!"

Nancy hung up the phone. She glanced at Ned. He looked so peaceful.  She didn't have the heart to inform him before 7:00 a.m. that child number four was about to arrive.  She dialed her doctor instead.  She prefered to labor at home.  She had yet to complete a true natural child birth and this was her last shot. She was informed to immediately go to the hospital, DO NOT DELAY, get to the hospital ASAP. The old hospital. Not the brand new, plush, exciting, hospital of her dreams that she had been coveting having her final-attempt-at-natural -birth at. The hospital with the freshly built walls and pristine wooden floors and made-to-order restaurant-style on-demand-meals that all the cool, hip, trendy, enlightened people were giving birth within. She was told to go to the old downtown hospital. The one with cement walls and 1950s linoleum. The one with the level 4 Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

Nancy was having a premature baby.

Nancy was pissed.  Tomorrow, of all the days, was the actual day that Nancy had put on her anal calendar two months ago as the day to pack her bags to be ready for the hospital.  She was simply not ready for baby number four to arrive yet.  Nancy called her father, Carson Drew who flew into a panic.  Just yesterday Nancy assured good old Hannah that she could indeed go on her trip to New York City.  Hannah was not allowed at Nancy's previous births and this made her very, very angry.  Nancy agreed to let her be present for this birth and even take photos.  Nancy thought it was quite safe and reasonable to think Hannah could travel half way across the country a month and a half before her due date.  Who knew?  Apparently that was very bad advice.  Carson set about bringing Hannah home in a 24 hour traveling ordeal from hell.

 

Nancy rallied the troops. She woke up her husband, grabbed the two older boys and the 21 month old daughter, alerted neighbors, relatives, and friends, sent up the smoke signals. 

Nancy insisted that Ned take her to the New Hospital. Ned, knowing better, delivered her frothing, dripping, gushing, screaming, contracting body downtown, where they checked in to the old hospital in a rush and flurry. A rush and flurry that came to a sudden mind numbing halt.

Nancy did not deliver her premature baby for another excruitiating, agonizing, hideously painful 26 hours later. Hannah had arrived with just hours to spare and that next morning, a tiny, teeny little bitty bundle of gooey white and red flew out of Nancy's giant stitched and restitched epiduraled hoo hoo into the arms of the mean doctor that sent her to the old hospital. The baby boy was grabbed and poked and prodded and whisked off. Nancy was left alone in a room with dead legs and a burning newly stitched-again hoo hoo. Hannah left to develop the crotch shot film. Ned went with baby boy to escort him to his new NICU home. A home filled with loud annoying nurses and buzzing and beeping machines and hospital interventions that lead baby boy to be stabbed in the head with a giant needle, pumping fluids through his tiny, unprepared body.

 

Nancy called her friend George and insisted she come immediately to the hospital to take black and white dramatic photos of baby boy with the horrific needle shoved into his brains.  Unfortunately for Nancy, George's husband had just walked out on her, leaving behind their decade marriage for a tattooed troll and George was in no mood to embrace premature life through photography.  No matter how dramatic. 

Nancy demanded to breastfeed. Everyone ignored her. "They" knew better. They filled baby boy with supplements and specialty formulas and told her to rest and not worry. But Nancy knew better. She knew baby boy belonged on her boob. The hospital set about hooking up machines that go bing and ordering expensive useless tests to determine why on earth this darling boy arrived early. The come-to-find-out unnecessary antibiotics that were forced into his body through the brain syringe ended up giving him a horrible diaper rash. That lead to a yeast infection. That lead to thrush. That Nancy herself diagnosed at 3:00 in the morning on day 12 of his NICU incarceration when a harried Nurse ignored his squirting poop and diapered over him anyway, leaving his raw, newborn skin to rot in acidic formula excrement.  Upon Nancy's insistance, an oxygen machine was ordered and his bare butt had round the clock fresh air blowing away to dry out the chaffed infected skin. The formula was stopped and he was given appropriate medication to cure him of everything they inflicted upon him.

Nancy was not fond of "standard of care" hospital initiatives. Nancy knew better. Nancy knew best. She demanded meetings with social workers, wrote angry complaint letters, whipped her boob out in front of sissy male neonatal doctors, and kangaroo cared her baby boy. It took 21 days before Nancy was able to parole baby boy from the evil NICU. It helped that Nancy moved her 21 month old in to the NICU with her and there they holed up, creating quite the scene.  They were all personally escorted from the old hospital on Thanksgiving Day, Nancy's Birthday! 

 

Later that evening, Nancy showered and gave birth to Baby Boy's twin.  It was  a 6 pound blood clot.  Ned and Nancy wondered if they should name it and apply for a social security number.  They wondered if it was legal to flush it or if they should bury it in the backyard death garden.  It was digusting.  The sound of the SPLAT on the shower floor will forever haunt Nancy way more than the trauma of her 26 hour labor and the ensuing years of Hannah's gripes about being told it was fine for her to travel.

Seven years later, on the eve of Baby Boy's Golden Birthday, Nancy asked Baby Boy "So why DID you come early?"

Baby Boy responded: "I am a superhero. I was sent from the Planet Compass Rose. My mother Rebecca had 26 children and we are all Super Heroes who have been sent to other earth's to save them. It was my time to come. I came to save the world."

Seemed reasonable thought Nancy. None of the $42,000 worth of lab charges could ever show any reason for Baby Boy's early arrival. Obviously. He was a Superhero from Compass Rose.  Nancy wondered what sort of birthing care Rebecca encountered with her 26 children.  She also wondered what sort of stitiches she had and if HER lazyboy had a "certain" smell.

It is 60 years in the future and Nancy Drew Nickerson has just been committed to an assisted living facility by her children.  Five children and not one of them stepped up to take the poor old 104 year old Nancy into their homes.  After all those years of breastfeeding THIS was her repayment.  Nancy sighed.  It wouldn't be so bad.  She had an assigned seat in the dining hall next to an oddly familiar woman; thank goodness too, because that nasty old crusty Chrissy tried to steal her mashed yams on her first night at the facility. 

Hunched Lisa was 94 years old and Nancy's newest luncheon friend.  They spent hours talking of the pill girls who came in multiple times a day to deliver their meds.  Nancy mentioned to Hunched that she really needed to get her hair done but the salon didn't have openings for another week.  None of Nancy's children bothered to take her to her personal stylist before admitting her to the home.  Hunched told Nancy she noticed the gray roots.  Nancy said it had been 6 weeks since she last had the hair dyed jet black.  Hunched commented that there was not much hair to dye.  She recommended a wig catalogue.  What? cried Nancy??  Yes, said Hunched.  You don't think this is natural do you?  Nancy quickly set about circling her favorites and called her oldest daughter.  BUY ME A WIG.  Nancy demanded but it sounded more like WHY ME A PIG so she put her teeth in and demanded it again.  BUY ME  A WIG.

Old Nancy had captured the apple of Big Ed's eye upon move-in day.  She sat demurely in a corner while her great great grandchildren moved in her turn of the century (2000s) furniture.  Ed hit on her.  He was in to her.  Ned had long since passed leaving Nancy a lonely old sad widow.  Ed had started to spark something in her she hadn't felt in years.  Or maybe that was just gas.  Nancy mentioned to Hunched about Ed.  Oh him! she retorted!  He hits on all the freshman.  Don't get your hopes up.  He has full blown dementia.  He'll make you promises and forget them the second from his lips.

So Nancy spritzed on another hit of her White Shoulders perfume, wheeled herself back to the dining hall and took her assigned seat.  She watched and waited as the other wheelers and rollers made their slow glide down  the hall.  She was sporting her new wig.  She had in her teeth.  She was ready to be the one Ed remembered.

 

***addendum commentary from current day Tall Lisa:

 

 

1.       Why does it have to be “Hunched Lisa”…that’s crap…well, maybe I should start drinking milk.

2.       This hair IS and ALWAYS will be real!!!  I’ll just use the wigs as accessories as my arthritic feet will not allow for the hooker heels anymore.

3.       WHY AM I IN THE NURSING HOME BEFORE YOU!?!?!  Again, that’s crap.  I will NOT be the veteran in the nursing home when you are admitted!!!  On second thought I do hear they host a mean happy hour.

4.       Speaking of happy hour, at 94 friggin years old I will not be your lunch buddy, I will be your happy hour buddy.  I expect us to be well manicured, real hair wig wearing, accessorized to the nines, lipstick wearing, alcoholics.  Period.  End of discussion.  Give me something to look forward to.

5.       And finally, Hunched has already had Ed.  He was a good ride, but nothing she would go back to for seconds.  She now only has relations with the hot, much younger orderlies.

 

Signed, Tall Drunk and Soon-to-be Hunched Lisa

Nancy glanced at the skies for ominous warnings.  Today was her wedding anniversary.  It had not rained once since that fateful day years and years ago when Nancy said "I do" to Ned.  Their wedding was a wash out.  Literally. 

Nancy dreamed of an outdoor wedding, on a stage of course, amongst all God's woodland creatures.  She had rented an amphitheatre at a state park for what seemed to be a perfect outdoor wedding day.  Not one drop of rain in the history of that date for all eternity. 

But on her wedding day it rained. And it rained and rained and rained and rained and rained.  It flooded her amphitheatre. She had to resort to plans A, B, C, D, and E before finally throwing her hands in the air and stating "Send the horse and carriage home!"

Frugal Ned, on the other hand, realized they had already paid for a horse and carriage and there were no refunds.  No, he insisted, Nancy would still have her grand, dramatic horse and carriage entrance. 

 

The wedding party lined up, umbrellas in hand, with the Irish Bag Piper leading the caravan piping away traditional Irish wedding tunes while the douched troupe rounded the Lodge parking lot.  The Lodge had windows on all four sides so it made for a remarkable image in the dark.  The haunting sound of bag pipes, the neighing of horses, the clomping of wagon wheels, the bitching of the wedding party.

As the horse and carriage rounded the final corner, the carriage door popped open and all the water that had been ballooning on top of the covered carriage drained right onto Nancy's beautiful wedding gown.  The gown with the long beaded and sparkling train that was never seen by a soul. It had to be tacked up from the get-go to avoid damage from exiting the carriage and entering the Lodge during a thunderously stunning wedding entrance.

Nancy sighed.  She heard signs of rain on a wedding day meant fertility.  Five children in, she believed that now.  And also that signs of rain might be a warning straight from God himself.

Nancy kept glancing at her watch.  She texted, she emailed, she phone called.  She was patiently waiting for their eldest son (the one with the expensive new cornea) to come home from college for the night so that Ned and she could have a free babysitter and go out to dinner to celebrate their big day.  The boy was not responding.  She texted again. "DO I NEED TO CONTACT STATE PATROL?????"  "WHERE R U?????"

Nancy called the neighbor girl to come babysit.  She was a great babysitter; but this was going to cost them $10 an hour and $38 worth of delivery pizza for the kids. Off the couple went to a new restaurant, still wondering where the college boy was, and lamenting the increasing price to celebrate wedded bliss.

A lovely dinner was had.  The restaurant delivered a bouquet of roses to their table when they learned it was their wedding anniversary.  The couple reminisced.  Ned reminded Nancy of how he had called her early on the morning of their wedding to let her know that he went to get the oil changed in his car and was involved in a slight motor vehicle accident and broke his ankle and was being transported to the hospital by EMT's right at that moment.  Nancy reminded Ned how his little joke was not funny at all, ill-timed, and insensitive when she had already spent hours that morning decorating an amphitheatre in the rain and had her wedding cake arrive WITHOUT the sparkly promised sugar. Ned made Nancy cry on her wedding morning.

But years and years and years later, the lovely couple sat across from each other at the restaurant, smelling fresh cut roses,  being satiated on steak, lobster, crab, and carrot cake when their bill arrived.  $278.47. Ned looked at Nancy.  Nancy looked at Ned. How in Hades had they spent nearly $300 on dinner for two was beyond their imagination.  They didn't even drink!  They decided to cut their losses and head for home. Home within two hours, they would only owe the babysitter $20.

As they pulled into the driveway, College boy arrived.  "Where have you been?" demanded Nancy, "Why have you not responded????"  The College boy laughed.  "It's a long story but my phone ended up lost under the car seat.  I couldn't find it but kept hearing you call.  The state patrol text made me laugh when I saw it."

 

Hrmph thought Nancy, she was about to let the College boy have it when all the children and babysitter came running out of the house screaming.

"Your kitchen sink is backing up.  The drain. Sewage. EVERYWHERE!" Yelled the babysitter over the bedlam.

Nancy looked at Ned.  Ned looked at Nancy.  The plumber was on speed-dial. It was a weekend. It was evening. It was the most expensive anniversary. EVER.

But not a drop of rain in sight.

Nancy was struggling.  She looked around. Five children, three dogs, four bunnies, one puppy, five cats, and one bird had taken a big toll on their home over the last decade.

She thought about her shark-bitten, broken-air-conditioned mini-van parked in their cracked driveway with the dented garage door.

She reflected on the front door knob had been missing for the last eight years.  It was an older, custom door, and new door knob parts just didn't work. 

The back patio door knob was in place, but pulled free each time it was grabbed.  It too was a custom piece and the only way to fix it was to install a new door, estimate $2,000.  For that cost, she could fix the van's shark bite and air conditioner! So for the last nine years, Nancy learned the art of opening the door and keeping the knob in place.  Evil Baby liked to pull the knob out.  Usually while the family was lounging in the back yard, which resulted in family being locked out and Evil Baby rampaging inside the house.

That wasn't a problem though, because all of the sun porch windows were broken and missing screens from when dogs bolted right through the open windows.  It was very easy to access the house through the windows.

The parquet flooring was water damaged, scratched, rubbed, bubble gummed, and thoroughly worn. 

The family room carpet, just replaced a mere 4 years ago with industrial restaurant grade carpet, was disgustingly dirty and worn.  So much for its promise of high traffic-ability.

The stair wall had a giant hole in it where Nancy went flying into the wall when she tripped late one night over the black 40 pound cat who slept soundly on the middle step.  Ned had already patched and repaired the hole once, he was in no hurry to do it again. Though, now that the 40 pound cat had died over his food dish, perhaps it was a safe time to begin repair.

Every single wall in the entire house was dirty, grimy, finger and booger stained. 

Her kitchen cabinets, which were painted a lovely crème when they first moved in, now revealed streaks of brown stain from her constant scrubbings. 

The new stove had drip marks BETWEEN the two doors and Nancy had no idea on earth how to get that clean. 

The third microwave in four years, had a fresh broken handle.

The backdoor into the garage would blow open because for some reason the door no longer latched. 

The older boys bathroom had urine curdled floor tiles that had absorbed years of bad aim.

The ceilings all showed signs of former roof leaks.

Her back sliding glass door had no R factor as it had to be hurriedly replaced when, during the dead of winter, when baby number four was prematurely born and family was in crisis, and the toked up neighbor boy pushed it off its very tracks and shattered the entire sliding half. Nancy and Ned had never yet had the time, money, or energy to properly replace the entire unit.

In fact, Nancy and Ned had let all of these issues slide over the years, only doing the minimal that their limited wallets and energies allowed.  Back-to-back babies and medical issues had held their attention for the last seven years.

Nancy wasn't sure where to begin. Or how. So much needed to be rebuilt, repaired, redone. Ned had wooed her with his siren songs of handy-dom in their courting days, but he really was more arm-charm than a handy-manny.

The couple had decided long ago that this would be the house they would retire in. It wasn't a big house. It wasn't a new house. It was the house that saw the life of their family grow.

Nancy's oldest child was in college.  Her youngest just started preschool. She looked around again.  She added up the cost to live in the home she dreamed about; the house that was on the cover of magazines. She thought about the amount of work and energy it would require to bring life back to the old house.

Maybe now is not the time thought Nancy. Do I really need Pella windows and Honda Pilots and Bamboo floors?

Instead Nancy thought she would continue to live with her house of decrepit chaos. It was truly filled with plenty of life, albeit broken and dirty and sometimes blood tinged. 

A magazine house was probably not something she would have today or even in the next decade or maybe even, well, EVER.

She didn't have a glorious house but she had a home, five children and a handsome, dedicated, loving husband.  She had hope. She had pets nearing the end of their life cycles (except for that damn puppy but odds were good it could be hit by a car.)

Nancy reflected.  It had been one crazy-ass ride. She always seemed to have just enough to do enough. Maybe that was ultimately more important than a driveway without cracks and weather resistant windows. Besides, if she fixed the screens, the new puppy would surely run through them anyway.

The 2012 Olympics were about to close.  The Nickerson family, consisting of five children and two exhausted parents, sat together watching the final ceremony.  Ned told Nancy about the female runner who was part male and the surrounding controversy regarding if she should be allowed to run.  Their big-eared eight year old listened with intrigue.

During the Spice Girls performance, the eight-year old questioned her mother, wondering how a girl could be part girl and part boy.  Nancy attempted to explain how sometimes people can be born with boy and girl parts.  The eight year old's eyes grew huge. 

Then Nancy said,

 Honey, I think it is time your father and I told you something.
You were born with a penis.
(long pregnant pause on Nancy's part)
But I had it chopped off. 
You know how much I wanted a girl, right?
So I had your penis chopped off and turned you into a girl.

The father continued to watch the Spice Girls. 

The eight-year old stood up, put her hands on her hips and declared:

MOTHER!
You are soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo inappropriate.  
I'm EIGHT YEARS OLD!   You don't tell an 8-year old stuff like that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nancy laughed and laughed and laughed.  Some days it was all worth it.
Ned continued to watch the Spice Girls.

Nancy boiled. She was out to screw the insurance company.  She shook her head in disgust at herself.  How had she gotten to this point?  Nancy Drew would NEVER screw anyone, especially a nice insurance company.  Nancy wasn't even supposed to boil! It was completely contrary to her nature, but she had reached her limit.  Well, she had far exceeded her limit actually.

Ned and Nancy Drew Nickerson had paid out over $12,002 in out-of-pocket medical expenses in the first 6 months of this year.  She was sick and tired of medical bills and all things medically related.  Then Ned had to go and complain about his eyesight.  He had always had perfect vision.  Better than perfect.  But last October he found out he had a slight near and far sightedness vision problem that could be corrected with bifocals to bring him back up to the level of better-than-perfect eyesight.

Ned purchased his first pair of glasses-bifocals-but had a very hard time seeing out them.  Especially at night.  He thought his eyes had gotten even worse over the last several months.  So Nancy called the eye doctor to set up an appointment.  She was told that they had to wait one full year before Ned could come back in for his free yearly eye exam.  Nancy refused to pay one single more cent on any medically related item.  She was infuriated.  She put her foot down. How could an insurance company call the shots???  She begged and pleaded with the eye doctor.  Ned begged and pleaded to go get his eyes checked out.  He couldn't see for the love of God! Finally, the insurance company gave in; he could get rechecked at 10 months out.  Gee, how generous of them, thought Nancy sarcastically, chastising herself for thinking sarcastically.

Ned went to the eye doctor and came home.  His eyes HAD deteriorated. But the doctor told him for a middle aged man he still was considered to have 20/20 vision.  Ned went ahead and bought himself a new, non-bifocal pair of glasses. Nancy backed away from Ned, clucking quietly to herself.  She picked up the phone and called the eye doctor.  Normally she would not have any of her younger children's eyes checked, but she was so enraged over the waiting of the free yearly exam and the fact that Ned had 20/20 vision and bought new glasses, she wanted to make sure each and every single one of her children had their eligible free yearly eye exam. Thus, in Nancy's mind, "screwing" the insurance company. They would be charged for something they would not normally have been charged for had they played nice with Nancy.

And that is when it all backfired on her.

It turns out the Evil Baby, the only healthy child of the brood, had bad eyes.  It certainly explained a lot.  Like why she didn't watch t.v. or look at books, or know her shapes. Evil Baby needed glasses.  Big, expensive glasses.

Nancy resolved the only screwing she would do in her future was to her husband, using multiple forms of birth control, with his new glasses on, or off.  She really didn't care anymore.  She quietly went to her desk and increased her out-of-pocket medical expenses from January to August to $12,346.79.

Nancy hopped into her 6 year old mini-van.  The left front end was missing from an accident when her husband insisted on driving their 16 year old son to work during a winter storm warning last year. A work shift that the son had been excused from for the weather, but Ned felt the boy should still make a good faith effort to go to the grocery store in the blizzard.  The son made $21.75 during that shift.  The van repair totaled over $1,200.  Nancy refused to cough up that cash to repair it.  She rolled down the windows.  The air conditioner had long since quit working.  This was the seventh straight week of one hundred degree weather.  She refused to fix that $1,500 repair as well. She pushed up the sleeves on her black sweater and off she tooled along the five minute drive home, sweating profusely, front bumper flapping.

Nancy pulled up front to see the green tag marks on her driveway where the city deemed the front apron needed to be replaced.  Price tag: $525.  She drove up to the mailbox as was her custom, hitting the side view car mirror in the process; also her custom.  She opened the bent mailbox door and retrieved her mail.  Ever hopeful for a friendly letter, instead she spied the renewal car taxes for Ned's new truck.  What? she thought, It hasn't been a year yet has it?  $560 due by the end of the month.  She sighed.  This wasn't going to get her down! 

She pulled into the garage and maneuvered her way around nine bicycles, three skateboards, one roller skate, two footballs, four soccer balls, three trash cans, a hammer, a large pine tree branch, and 14 bowls filled with colored sand.  Upon opening the knob less door to her home (the children had pulled it off years ago), Nancy spotted the Evil Puppy digging in the cat litter box.  She shooed him away and got out the broom but the puppy began playing tug o war with the bristles and her purse kept sliding down her arm and DAMN she was hot!  She set down her purse and  took off her black sweater and headed over to the thermostat. 80 degrees.  Three children (her own) and a set of twins (the neighbors) came screaming past her. I HAD IT FIRST YOU ARE BEING MEAN I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU HURT ME I AM BLEEDING I AM DYING GIVE IT BACK TO ME WHERE'S MY SNACK I'M HUNGRY I HATE YOU.  Nancy interrupted the chaos and asked where might the father be?  She meandered her way upstairs.  Ned was lying in bed, fan blowing on his half naked body, reading a book about proper Olympic Weight Lifting Forms. Ned assured Nancy that the air conditioner was working properly.  That when children went in and out of a door-knob less house all day in 104 degree heat, the unit had a hard time keeping up in cooling off.

Nancy got naked and put on her yoga pants filled with puppy bite holes and a t-shirt sans a bra.  She headed back to the kitchen.  Nothing. She didn't have the energy to go to the grocery store.  She did have a box of organic CSA vegetables and some leftover whole grain spaghetti and organic sauce.  She chopped up some kale, cucumber, zucchini, and lemon basil.  She added the leftover breadstick dipping sauce from Dominos Pizza last week.  It still didn't amount to much.  She took out the bottle opener and slowly wound it around the Chef Boyardee can of ravioli.  The can opener had broke a  few months ago.  That can of ravioli had sat in utter anticipation, waiting for someone desperate enough to figure out how to open it. After punching several holes she was able to squish the crap from the can.  She put it all in a pan to heat on the stove.  Nancy did not like to use the microwave.  Mostly because the handle was broken off.  And that the insides looked as if someone had exploded a drying cat in there.

Nancy listened to the sounds of the children fighting, saw her unsupervised puppy pee on the floor, and decided to turn over a load of laundry only to find the detergent bottle empty. It wasn't quite what she had fantasized about. Really, she didn't even have a hot tub so why would she want a crystal chandelier? She felt her sweaty boobs rub up against her skin. Tonight could not go by fast enough. Nancy flicked off the stove, threw  some paper towels on the puppy pee, and headed upstairs to put on a bra. She was going out. And by out, she meant the grocery store. Ned would join her and with any luck they could find a parking lot somewhere to practice her flexibility and dirty the seats in his brand new truck.  Life really was good. It was all a matter of perspective. And proper Olympic Lifting Form.

It was late in the day and Nancy Drew Nickerson kicked off her shoes in her soft-walled office.  She looked down and saw the duct tape stuck to the bottom of her cracked heel. She thought about leaving it but then peeled it off and tossed it into the recycle bin.  Nancy was tired. It seems her entire life was spent doing things she really wasn't so keen on doing. Right now that was leaving work and going home to make dinner. Nancy hated cooking.  Women who have five children and a husband should not hate cooking.  She sighed.  What organic mish-mash could she chop up tonight and turn in to a sauce to ladle over pasta du jour? It is really too bad the kids were burned out on Ramen Noodles. Damn teenage babysitting sons feeding the younger siblings those for lunch each and every day. She allowed herself to briefly fantasize about what she would do IF THINGS WERE DIFFERENT.  Nancy would go home to a sunshine sparkling home, smelling of vanilla, Clorox, and curry in the "rich" neighborhood.  She would also be driving anything other than the shark bitten mini-van. Her children would be clean and subdued upon arrival, quietly coloring in bible pages whilst sharing one pack of 24 non-broken crayons.  Ned would be installing a crystal chandelier for her above her hot tub in her private bath. The children would kiss her and go back to their quiet work.  The puppy would bang his tail against the cage door in welcome and then settle down for a long three hour nap.  Nancy would change her clothes, read the mail which included actual letters from real friends, and then sit down and read her latest mystery.  She would get up two hours later when Alice declared dinner ready.  She would affix her tiara and glide down the spiral staircase where Ned would grab her and give her a passionate kiss. Then she would go workout while Alice fed the children. Once the children had the kitchen cleaned and were bathed and  were softly settled in their beds for the evening, she would walk in, perform a bedtime story, and then go off to her marital boudoir where the two love birds could catch up on the day. Sigh. Nancy remembered she broke the electrical cord auto-rewind button off the new vacuum cleaner last night when she banged it into the painted 1970s stair railing.  She grabbed the duct tape piece from her recycle bin.  It ought to work perfect for the repair job.  She never thought to look on her feet when she spent 20 minutes looking for the duct tape last night!  And with that she shoved the wadded up tape into her bra, control-alt-deleted her computer to lock it, and danced off to the shark bitten van in the far end of the hot parking lot. A surge of optimism filled her body and soul This girl had got to go-she had work to do!

Nancy giggled with delight!  This was so much fun she thought.  Ever since she confiscated her 16 year olds cell phone months ago she took delight in reading and often responding to texts from his friends.  Today she caught two of the friends in her driveway and was able to mention to "Bart" how much she enjoyed his inappropriate texts.  This sent the other friend "Barry" into fits of laughter to which Nancy quickly retorted how much she enjoyed Barry's texts, especially regarding his father and all the inappropriate acts the boy boasted to do.  "Barry" immediately ceased his fit and looked at the ground.  Nancy and Ned hopped in the car and took off while she continued to giggle.  Ned chastised her.  "I don't suppose you remember what it was like to be a teenage boy.  I can guarantee you that you have not stopped them from their texting behavior but you can be assured they will never look you in the eye again!"  Nancy sighed.  She did not remember what it was like to be a teenage boy.  But she did enjoy the satisfaction of having one over on them. Even if it meant humiliation and public embarrassment.  She was ok with that.

Nancy Drew Nickerson banged her head against the steering wheel. No no no no no no no no NOOOOOO she screamed quietly in her head.  Her seatbelt was tangled.  This was the final straw.  Nancy's van already sported a broken front bumper and no air conditioning.  She whipped out her cell and texted her two oldest sons. WHO TANGLED THE DRIVERS SEATBELT?????!?!??!?!?!!! Within seconds, in succinct succession came the responses: Not Me. Not me. Nancy wept quietly. Or maybe that was sweat and not tears running down her face; it was 104 degrees after all.  She turned on the engine and began her long drive to pick up the other three children from swimming, tennis, and loom-weaving lessons. All the while listening to the ding ding ding of the charming alarm reminding her of the dangerous risk in not wearing a seatbelt.

Nancy Drew Nickerson walked into her kitchen in the early dawn of the morning to let the Evil Puppy outside.  There, sitting on her clean counter, was a crusty food embedded bowl from her wedding set. "AAAAAGGGGH!" she screamed silently in her head.  "WHO DOES THIS?  WHO DOES THIS???"  She grabbed the half-dried black crayola marker from the dog food bowl, ripped off a Scott's brand paper towel, and scribbled: WHO DOESN'T RINSE THEIR DISH???? and with that, she threw the pup in the kennel, and  went back to bed. Upon rising one hour and 53 minutes later to barking, she ventured into the kitchen.  There, on the Scott's brand paper towel, spelled out neatly in broken stick pretzels was two words: Not Me. 

The 8 week old puppy clawed and whined at the cage door.  Nancy rolled over the sleeping child, clambered out of the bottom bunk, and freed the prisoner.  She sighed heavily as she carried the little guy downstairs and outside.  Ned must be bipolar-cycling again, she thought, why on earth would he bring home a puppy?  Nancy glanced at the kitchen wall clock.  Midnight. She sighed again. Louder. Nancy recalled the time Ned brought a stray home from the trail after a run.  He was a darling beagle puppy.  They wanted to keep him.  That is, until around late evening when the darling beagle had worms start dropping out of his butt.  A midnight run to the local humane society sealed that pups fate.  Maybe this time it would be different?  The puppy started to whine again.  In Nancy’s sleep deprived state, she wondered if she could breastfeed the little thing?  That was how she had survived their five children.  Nancy was not one to miss out on her sleep. She sighed again, wrapped a blanket around the puppy to catch any possible butt crawling worms, and snuggled her way back into the bunk bed. Puppy and Nancy soon drifted off to sleep.

Nancy Drew Nickerson lowered her head and diverted her eyes.  The orthodontist’s crispy white shiny toothy grin came at her with rapid fire statistics while his intense gaze never left her mouth. It was of vital importance that she and Ned immediately seek orthodontic treatment for the health of their middle child’s teeth.  At any moment, an undescended adult tooth could become permanently embedded into the temporomandibular thus necessitating the need for risky surgeon removal.  Nancy nodded back, keeping her lips firmly pressed together.  His keen attempt to stare directly into her own mouth was making her very uncomfortable. All it took was “Your daughter must have your husband’s jaw structure. I can tell…” Nancy did not wait for him to finish the sentence.  She picked up her purse, scooted her middle child into the hallway, and thanked him as she vigorously began wiping her nose, to remove the man’s focus from her teeth. Ned is not going to like this, thought Nancy.  That man has undressed my teeth with his eyes.  She shuddered at the violation and nervously rubbed non-existent lipstick from her front teeth.  It was so hard to find good ortho care for kids these days.

Nancy Drew Nickerson took a deep breath.  She had prayed for this moment.  Cried, pleaded, begged, and bribed for this day. She did not think it would ever happen.  In fact, she and Ned were convinced Evil Baby had something wrong with her.  Decades ago, when Nancy doula-assisted-natural-child-birthed her oldest, she had an idealized view of parenthood and raising her lovely babies.  She had a long list of “nevers” for her precious offspring.  “My baby will never eat ranch dressing. My baby will never smother her food in ketchup.  My baby will never eat pesticide GMO grown food or eat fast food. My baby will never go to daycare. My baby will never cry.  My baby will never drink formula.  My baby will never play with plastic toys. My baby will never watch t.v.” Of course, that thinking was all so five children ago.  The oldest two boys were privy to that type of raising, but after an 8 year gap followed by three children in four years, Nancy had lowered her standards.  “Please! PLEASE BABY!  Please watch t.v.!!!!  Mommy needs to shower!!!!!!” But Evil Baby would never comply.  She refused to watch television. Until today.  There, on the edge of the family bed, the little bundle of naughtiness sat.  Captivated by the Curious George. Nancy Drew Nickerson felt strongly that the world was about to end.

Nancy glanced over at Evil Baby sitting on the toilet.  Her round face was covered in green marker, complete with moustache. “Ima gonna peeeeee through my undies” she laughed, while peeing through her undies.  At least she’s sitting on the toilet this time, Nancy thought.  Nancy was about to put a close to a very long week of undercover adult work.  She had confiscated the cell phone from her high school son.  Unbeknownst to him, she had been retrieving his text messages all week.  She discovered an upcoming teen party with “handles”.  Nancy asked her coworker chum, Drunk Lisa, what “handles” meant.  Drunk educated Nancy that handles meant bottles of alcohol.  Nancy quickly went to work pretending she was her son and sent additional texts: “when”  with the response “Fri at Adams” Nancy searched the contact listing and discovered two Adams so she texted “which Adam” and got the information she needed.  Nancy contacted the high school principal and police department.  The next day her son’s cell phone received the following text “nvm (translation by Drunk Lisa: ‘Never mind’) party cancelled, some fag turned us in.”  Nancy had come a long way from teen sleuth!  Twenty years later she was officially an undercover fag.  Oh well, thought Nancy, I will take what excitement I can get.  And off she went to clean the urine from the toilet seat.

Nancy Drew lived a lovely high school existence, frolicking across the country, solving mysteries, and loving the exuberance of her youth, beauty, and energy.  Then she grew up. She married Ned and they begat 5 children.  Today, they live a life of chaos and commotion.  Her husband has been recently diagnosed bipolar. The oldest child is in college and in need of new corneas. She suspects their middle son is a closet atheist and alleged pot smoking sophomore in high school; how else to explain his strange behavior?  The next two children are barely 20 months apart and riddled with asthma and food allergies and health issues. Their youngest, well, she simple goes by the name Evil Baby.  As for Nancy, she is now middle aged, overweight, and has a prolapsed bladder.  This is the story of her daily adventures in surviving The Case of the Forlorn Maturity.