Calling it “mother” is a bit…
But that’s what it is, really.
That’s what it will do.
But giving it a name…
I don’t understand why you need to.
Look, it will be naming others, so it should have a name.
It should know what it means to be called.
Do I have to explain interpellation again?
Please don’t.
Please don’t.
Your theories make my brain hurt.
Your brain can’t feel pain. I told you.
Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!
Just name it whatever, but not “mother.”
Never “mother.”
Alright. How about…
Beth woke from a long sleep and felt the remnants of her dream slip away like a stray tear. She sensed the coldness in the bed next to her and remembered that David said he wouldn’t be home that night. He spent so much time in the office lately that she was starting to think his apartment in town was a good idea. He didn’t do much around the house anyway, so it was best to have him concentrating on work and out from underfoot. She stretched and quickly made the bed, half the job it normally would be. She caught herself in the mirror on her way to the bathroom. She loved the silvery shimmer of her nightgown, the way the flared skirt spun around her hips. She frowned knowing David hadn’t seen it yet. “Ah well,” she sighed. “I’ll keep wearing it until he does.” Beth heard nothing in the hallway and relaxed that all seven children were still sleeping. “Me time, just for a bit,” she said, turning on a hot shower.
Wait.
What?
What is this?
You said it can’t be” mother.”
No, no. Is this her life?
This is a life.
It’s no life.
Is she one of those Steppenwolf wives?
What the hell are Steppenwolf wives?
You know, that old movie.
Is her whole life just in that house?
Well, a lot of it.
No, no, no. There has to be something more.
Why?
But, who is Beth as a person?
What does she do? What does she want?
Beth is “mother.”
So, it’s just “mother.” Nothing else?
Nothing else.
Not Beth?
Beth is “mother”.
Why did you bother naming her?
Exactly!
You made me name her!
Now you say she has wants and desires.
Beth does.
But not “mother.”
When the five oldest finally piled onto the school bus, Beth turned back to the house and shooed the two toddlers inside. She hoisted them up, one on each hip, and descended into the downstairs, part playroom, part second kitchen. While the breakfast dishes were going upstairs, she could keep her eye on John and Johanna, the twins, and food prep for the next few days. She wrote down a few menu items in her Positivity Planner and checked on the three cameras set up around the work area. “You two be good while mommy films,” she cooed and checked her hair and makeup in the pocket mirror she kept in her apron. She turned on each camera one by one, checked her positioning in the main camera’s viewfinder and said “Hi. Welcome back to Beth’s Basement. I’ve got the little ones playing in the background and today we’re going to do this week’s food prep.” She paused, smiling, giving herself a few seconds for editing and then grabbed a bowl of onions. Beth peeled off the brown layers and wondered if David was getting enough to eat. “I think today I’ll focus on adult lunches. You know my hubby has been working hard lately and I think I need to bulk up his lunches with stamina-enhancing nutrition.” She brought the sharpened chef knife down on the bulb, cleaving it in two.
Where did this come from? What is happening?
I gave her something. I gave Beth something.
Beth is a content creator.
A what?
She makes videos about her cooking and such.
That’s what you gave her? A video channel?
Yes! It generates a good amount of revenue.
You didn’t really give her anything.
It’s all still just about the house.
Why does she need to leave the house?
What?
Why does she need anything outside of her home and family?
Beth should have something of her own.
She does. She has her channel.
…
That’s not Beth’s channel.
That’s “mother”’s channel.
Yes.
She stretched her arms high trying to relieve some of the soreness out of her shoulders and back. She’d been editing for over an hour and was still angry over having to wrestle William and Summer into their respective baths. Apparently, school had been pretty dull, and they saved all their energy for home. Perhaps at the next parent teacher meeting she would suggest extended physical activities for the children. She glanced at her Positivity Planner and wondered if the next meeting had been scheduled. It was early November, and they should have had one by now. When was it last year? She flipped through the glittery pages. She passed beach-themed July, an overflowing basket of eggs for April, the Champaign laced January and all the way back to the previous August, all chalkboards and pencils. Beth must not have marked down the last meeting. Perhaps David went on his own. That must have been it, she thought, flipping back to today and its stenciled “Editing Day” at the top of the page. Yes. She distinctly remembered him offering to go to the meeting on his way home from work. She grabbed a sticky note with a teddy bear holding a sign that said: Remember.
