There once was a girl named Violet......but for fun, we call her Violent. Violent holds a special, special place in our hearts, because Violent is a special, special girl. And so the story begins...
"We should start a play group." It was an excellent suggestion Tiffany made. We didn't quite fit the mold of the other playgroups in the area. We were about ten years younger than most of the moms in the other playgroups, and yes that makes a difference. You know, like, when they say things like, "Oh you wouldn't understand, you are soooo young." As if mid-twenties is the same as sixteen. Also, while Tiff and I love our children, we are the first to admit we don't love being moms all the time. The playgroups we had attended were filled with mothers claiming they loved every single minute of parenthood. Smile. Liars. We wanted a group of moms that were real. That complained when their kids cried for hours at a time. Moms that admitted it was a lot harder to be a parent than we ever expected. And also, a group of moms that didn't criticize us for being "young" when we had our children.
We had a few people we were interested in inviting to our playgroup. One of them was from an online parenting board Tiffany was part of. She was about our age. Had three children around our children's ages. She seemed to fit what we were looking for. We set up our first meeting at the mall play area. We were excited. Very excited. We just knew this was the start of something amazing.
It didn't go well. We just didn't mesh. Here were Tiff and I riding on the plastic alligator in the play area, hooting and hollering like idiots. And the other mommies just kind of looked at us funny. Although, they quite nicely took pictures for us to include in our lovely video montage. But it was awkward. We left there, snickering about how weird it had been.
"Wow, good pick Tiff with that Violet girl. She was buckets of fun," I said sarcastically.
"Yeah, I think we are never going to hang out with her again." For the next few days Violet became the butt of our jokes. It was mean. We know. But irresistible. And? She set herself up by doing things like calling Tiffany FOURTEEN times in a row. Girl. She didn't answer. Leave a message, then do what normal fucking people do. WAIT FOR HER TO CALL YOU BACK.
Tiffany eventually became slightly alarmed by the behavior, when Violet started randomly showing up at her house. I mean, that is normal right? Call forty times and when they don't answer, load your bajillion children in the car and drive thirty minutes to their house. Creeeeeepy!
But, the problem was. Tiffany had a soft spot. She felt sorry for poor friendless, creepy girl. So she would eventually answer the phone or open her door. Now, I am not saying having a stalker was her fault, but I told her not to answer the phone! She just doesn't listen to me, though. Shame. So the stalking continued on.
A few weeks after the initial playgroup fiasco, I went to Dallas for an appointment with Emmi's ENT. Something big happened at that appointment. Honestly, I can't remember what. They scheduled Emmi's surgery? Or we got some test results? I don't know, but I do remember that I wanted to talk to Tiffany very badly. I called. She didn't answer. I waited another hour. Still no answer. I drove from Dallas to Houston without hearing back from her. I tried her again. I got the answering machine.
"Tiffany! Damn it! Answer your stupid phone. I know you are there, and I have something important to tell you! Don't make me turn into Violent and start....."
Tiffany grabs the phone. "He-hello," she stammers. She sounds funny. But who cares. I have something important to tell her. Whatever she has going on can wait! I launch into my story. She interrupts. "Oh that's great Tricia." Huh? That response didn't go with what I was saying. I am confused. And now irritated. "Well, I'll have to call you back when Violet and I finish the movie we are watching."
Violet. Watching a movie. In Tiffany's living room. With the answering machine about a foot from her head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was not pretty. Not pretty at all.