In Search for my Everlasting Gobstopper from the Yellow Brick Road

May 15th, 2012

I honestly forgot Mother's Day was coming up. In the weeks leading up to this day, we will celebrate everything, Mom. I was too consumed by my own world to think about it.

I've been too consumed in many things in my world to think about much of anything.

I would only remember Mother's Day when I would load the boys up in the mini-van in search of our Willy Wonka fun. Still, we seemed to return feeling more like Slugworth in search of his Everlasting Gobstopper.

When I am ready to venture out, the get-up-and-go routine is the only thing I have down to a science.

When I decide that I need to get up from my lethargic state. I use a lot of energy just to remove my body from the safety of my couch. My motivation rushes over me that I once had before losing my wife in March.

A flood of adrenaline pumps through my veins, boosting my skeletal muscles and increasing my oxygen intake like a high-performance race car. Now, everything I do is done without thought and is simply automatic.

Like a tornado in The Wizard of Oz, I spring into action.

I grab Nico and take him into his room. I exchange diapers, out with the old, in with the new, and dress him. I throw on his shirt. He raises his arms high in the air as if I'm robbing him. I then pull the shirt over his head and the sleeves down his olive skin tonearms. I grab a matching pair of shorts and place them at the base of his feet, inches from his toes.

We say in unison. "First leg, step 1. Second leg, step 2." as he steps in each pant leg.

Nico is ready to go, so he runs off, but I'm not done yet.

Waiting anxiously by my side is Christopher, eagerly awaiting his entire service. I look at him and say in my worst British accent, "At your service, my lord."

As freighting as my accent is, he doesn't hesitate and lays down, presenting his legs in the air, waiting for his own diaper to be placed on.

"Step 1, step 2", we say together as I put on his shorts.

Today, I decided we'd all wear orange shirts since Nico was already sporting his. So I grab the overpriced Disney Buzz Lightyear t-shirt and slip it over Christopher's head and down his torso.

"Bye-bye?" Christopher asks me in his high voice. As if Mickey Mouse himself was speaking for him.

"Yup," affirming his inquiry and fueling his delight.

He turns from me, runs out of the bedroom, rounds the door jam, and heads down the hall. When his little feet reach the living room, he makes his way to the couch, where he takes his usual position on top of the sofa by the window with the perfect view of the front yard. He is in his prep area, batter on deck, patiently waiting for me to secure Nico in his seat of passage, knowing that I will return for him.

Nico stands by the door, eagerly waiting for me to pick him up and bring him outside. He's the first to be installed in his car seat. A perk you get for being the oldest.

I bend over and slide my right arm under his legs. He wraps his left arm around my big shoulders, and we walk out the door.

"Cop car! Cop car!" he shouts, pointing at my police car in the driveway.

I buckle him in his rear stately carriage of the mini-van. He can hardly contain his smile.

They both love to go for a drive in the van. They enjoy watching the world pass by at 45 miles per hour because, for now, it's better than sitting in the house and watching time go by 24 hours a day.

I kiss him on his forehead. A treat he'll accept for now until he's older. When big boys don't kiss their daddy.

"Be right back," Nico says, beating me to the punch, knowing what I would say.

I walk partially across the grass towards my front door. Christopher watches intensely through the window. I inch closer to his freedom, and he sequels with delight. The anticipation of my arrival enthralls him.

When I open the door, I immediately turn to my right. The couch isn't resting too far from Christopher's gateway, and he doesn't hesitate to jump in my arms. I'm wiser now to his para-jumping antics and was fully expecting the 30-pound bundle of joy to come flying at me.

"Let's go!" I shout with enthusiasm. I'm the epitome of happy on the outside but crying on the inside.

I do my best to make the bad go away. I need to make sure my boys are in a cocoon of love so they will know no other feeling, and eventually, their pain will go away.

It's the dad trying to find the mom in me.

I carry Christopher to his spot on the rear driver's side of the mini-van. He's the co-pilot directly behind Dad.

The first to be grabbed upon our arrival when we are out and about. The perk of being the youngest. I snug Christopher in his cushion ride. And with a smile, I say, "Let's do this."

I ensure their tray tables are up and seat backs are upright in preparation for our departure. The van isn't as fun as the Wonkavator, but it will do just fine.

I back the mini-van out of the driveway, and we're on our way down the yellow brick road in search of our golden ticket.

I turned off the DVD player that had been looping the same movie for several days and jammed to some music. I'm looking for the boys to have some other culture in their life besides Dreamworks and Walt Disney Studios. What better way than to enlighten them with some good music. I reach over and turn the volume up on the radio.

The music plays, "Have a drink, clink, found the Bud Light Bad bitches like me…

"Huh", I think.

…is hard to come by The Patrón, own, let's get it on…

"Who, what. Get on who?" I say.

…The zone, own, yes I'm in the zone Is it two, three, leave a good tip I'm a blow all my money and don't give two shits….

"Okay, that's enough culture for now," I announce, looking back at my boys by utilizing the review mirror.

They are oblivious to what is going on. The overzealous parent in me changes the music channel. In my hast to change the station, the scan button I hit landed on

Smooth 101.1

"It's time to say thanks to Mom this Mother's Day." The even voice-over man says during a commercial break in the music. I quickly change the station.

97.9 The Beat of Florida

"Mother's Day, Mother's Day, Mother's Day." The voice-over exclaims, "Ugh." I cringe my face, reaching out and pushing the channel button.

101.4 Light-Hearted

"So this Mother's Day, say it with love."

"Forget this," my frustration winning.

102.5 The Wavez

Woman Singing, "This Mother's Day is right to say what's right, and that's to say that today is mom's day and give her the love…"

Change

106.3 The Best of Today

Little girl voice over, "My mom is the best mommy in the world, so this Mother's Day."

Caliente 103.1

“Día de la Madre estará disponible muy pronto. tu madre se merece lo mejor. ¡Feliz Día de la madre.”

I don't know what they said besides Feliz, so I know it can't be good.

"Just forget it. Want to hear some Howard Stern guys?" I shout out loud. "That's way better than the Nicki Minaj song," I mutter.

I switch the channel to Sirius 100, and Robin Quivers is doing the news….

"Refreshing", I think.

"And that's what's happening, Howard", Robin says in a familiar and soothing voice that I've been listening to for the past sixteen years.

"Thank you, Robin," Howard says. "Hey, Robin, did you know Mother's Day is coming up," Howard speaks to her in the same banter that has brought them success.

"Why yes, Howard, I did," Robin replies.

"Well, Robin, there is no better way to say Happy Mother's Day than sending A Vermont Teddy Gram…"

"That's it!" I shout. "Okay, guys, enjoy the culture on the street," I said while turning off the radio.

Maybe the Oompa Loompas will bust out with a song, I think, and give some wise advice. My mind wanders, and I envision the Oompa Loompa's little orange faces surrounding the front windshield of my mini-van.

 

“Oompa Loompa doompadee doo

I've got another puzzle for you

Oompa Loompa doompadee dee

If you are wise, you will listen to me

What do you get when your dad is stuck.

Trying to bring his family some luck.

I don't know how to turn it around.

Life is hard, and you have to stop feeling down.

Time is wasted, so get it done now.

It's up to you to end all this rut.

Stop feeling stuck and drop the front.

Get... off your butt.

Oompa Loompa doompadee dah

If you're not spoiled, then you will go far

You will live in happiness, too

Like the Oompa Loompa doompadee do.”

"Blah," I bemoan, activate my windshield wipers, and clean the window.

Man, if I had an Everlasting Gobstopper, I'd sell it to Slugworth.

The search was on to occupy the boys with some fun. My yellow brick road winding through twists and turns, hoping to find the Emerald City. I need more courage to press myself, but my brain isn't thinking right. My heart is in the right place with everything I have been doing.

I've never felt this way. It's like Dorothy dropped a house on my world. It's getting old, though. I have to resurrect it somehow. No one is going to help me or lend me a hand. The Good Witch isn't going to magically appear and place Ruby Red slippers on my feet to guide my way. And no one I know is helping or going to help me.

It's like I have traveled off the Yellow Brick Road and found my way on the Wonkatania, headed down my stream of chocolate into the tunnel of bad dreams and fears with my life being broadcast on the crawlway walls.

I have to fight my way off this boat. But if I make my escape, I'll be attacked by flying monkeys. Man isn't meant to fly, so I don't try to drink the Fizzy Lifting Drink to make my escape. Besides, I'd only get caught in the fan.

When I'm ready, I'll have to be the one to slip into my Ruby Red slippers and click my heels, hoping for the best as I get back on the Yellow Brick Road of life.

And if I do find Slugworth and my Everlasting Gobstopper. I'll hold on to it and give it back to Willie Wonka. The good karma may be returned to me.

Until then, the radio will be off on the road trip I have brought my boys on this day. Mother's Day commercials are too hard right now.

The boys can stare out the window and observe Culture from afar.

If they look hard enough, they may even see an Oompa Loompa.

Starships written by Nicki Minaj, RedOne, Carl Falk, Rami Yacoub, Wayne Hector

Oompa Loompa chorus was written by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley.

*Personal Note:

Today marks two months since my wife died. There are two long, long months of deep battles within myself that no one will understand since no one has bothered to make themselves understand. I can not teach you what I don't know myself.

If it helps those who ignore me to make themselves feel better with the knowledge they don't have to go through what I am going through, then I am happy that you at least found your own happiness.

Mimie, the boys miss their mom more than I can ever write here, more than anything. And I miss the only person in the world I talked to every day and who spoke to me.

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

2051 words

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

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