I honestly have no idea how things got so out of control.
It started with this cute idea I had for surviving the stretch from January to April — or, as I like to call it, the great boil on the rear-end of the lunar calendar.
I survived by celebrating. Over-celebrating. Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, April Fools and Easter took on epic proportions. I flung mylar hearts, leprechauns, bunnies. I found crepe paper streamers in pink and red and green and yellow. I baked and prepped and sauteed and roasted whatever food I could justify and afford.
And then one year I got a great idea. How much fun would it be to make a rainbow for the girls to follow, and then put a pot of gold at the end?
I bought ribbons in rainbow colors, ran them through the furniture in a wild web, filled a plastic kettle with gold chocolates, gold beads and baubles and ribbons and glitter. (And mylar straw.) I hid it under the couch, at the end of the purple ribbon.
Clever, right? Super Mom of the year, no?
Okay, then last year I ended up with Marley the night before St. Patrick’s. I don’t remember how it happened, but it was easy, we just chucked her in, they had a blast and split the booty evenly.
And then something interesting happened.
First, Greta saw the kettle on a playdate that afternoon. And Mare, being the big heart she is, gave it to her. Greta was bummed that there was no rainbow at her house.
Then Marley’s big brother Henry saw the gold booty Marley brought home and was insensed — why does all the cool stuff happen to Marley??
Things got even more interesting around Halloween, when Marley asked her Dad whether she could stay at our house for St. Patrick’s Day again.
She asked again around the New Year and again at Margo’s birthday party last month.
“I’m not sure, Marley,” her Dad said. I shrugged in a “fine with me” motion and Marley pouted, “Why don’t the leprechauns come to our house?”
“We’re not Irish,” he said.
“That’s okay!”
“We’re Jewish,” he went on.
“That’s okay!” she replied.
“We’re Scottish/Austrian,” I added helpfully.
I ring Tania’s house and get the sitter.
“I am just wondering whether we’re expecting Marley tonight,” I said.
“Oh, I sure hope so,” she answers. “She told me she’s not staying here, she’s going where the leprechauns are.”
“Oh, fabulous.”
“This is apparently the lame house on St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Ah,” I say.
“Hey, El, can I swing by and get the pot of gold from you today?” Greta has had it for a year.
Almost exactly.
“Sure, but um, there’s no more mylar straw in it.”
“Oh? — It didn’t last too long, huh?”
“No. I threw it out the first week. You have a sickness and I am not enabling you.”
“Harsh, my friend, harsh. But honestly, do you know how long I can go before I hit bottom?”
“I have some idea.”
“Yeah, but this is mylar. It flings!!”
I know what I have to do. Have known it since last year. It can’t be avoided.
“Would Greta like to spend the night, too?” I ask. (What am I going to do, grab the pot of gold and leave her there?)
“Oh, wow …” El says.
Sure. Four little girls. Me, 13 months pregnant. In a house that comfortably sleeps four. Why not?
It is, after all, St. Patrick’s-freaking-Day.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tania asks.
“Yeah, totally, it’s great,” I say bravely.
“What can I bring?”
“Anything gold,” I say. “Buttons, glitter pens, stickers. Whatever. We don’t hold back on St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Okay. Henry’s losing his mind that Marley gets to do this again this year.”
“Oh. Would. Um. Would he like to come. Too? And, of course, Eleanor. You know. All of your children.” (Honestly, did you think about how hard they would be to accomodate before you had all those freaking kids??)
Long pause.
“No, that would be wrong.”
“Okay.”
“I think I just need to get Henry some gold stuff.”
“Sorry.”
“Hey, how do we explain the return of the kettle?” Ellie asks. “Obviously there is some parental involvement if the kettle comes back.”
“Maybe it’s like a stocking? — I don’t know. I really don’t know how leprechauns work.”
“And, now, Mare does believe it’s leprechauns? Not you?”
“With her whole little heart and soul. Marley too. Oh my God, El, what have I done?”
“That an important first step, Liz. Good for you.”
“Okay, Mare, you sweep the floor and Renny can use the dust pan. We have to get this place cleaned up. I have a lot of people to cook for tonight.”
“Me, Marley, Ren, Greta, Eden (she counts, ’cause she eats so much) and Daddy!”
“Keep going,” I say.
“Um … Sunbeam?”
“AND Moonbeam.”
“REALLY?!?!?!”
“Yes. I promised them hash in exchange for playing leprechauns.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing, hand me that dustpan, would you love?”
