In the other thread someone suggested that 50’s Mom was needed to answer some of the questions 50’s Dad seemed to shy away from.
So I got back from the bridge club, got out of my girdle, took off my face, made myself a Tom Collins and can spend a few minutes before Tommy and Sandy get home answering your questions.
50’s Mom has a big weekend coming up, though, so I can’t promise I’ll answer your questions immediately. But I promise I’ll check in between the laundry and the cooking.
50’s Mom–You told me that if I let my boyfriend kiss me, I’d get in trouble. I didn’t let him kiss me, but we did some other stuff. Now I’m in the family way. Since I don’t go swimming or use public toilets, how did I get into this delicate condition?
Dear 50’s Mom – oh what the hell, it’s time I called you Marjorie –
How can I tell you what our days together have meant to a lonely old bachelor like me? Before I met you all I had to look forward to was another day of trudging the neighborhoods, canister on my shoulder, attachments in my briefcase, followed by another night getting stinko in front of the Philco.
You’ve given me a new reason for living, Marjorie dearest. You’ve made me realize that life just isn’t complete without someone to come home to who smells nice, whose hair is bouncy and soft, and who’s built like a burlap bag full of bobcats and got the action to match.
Well, tell you what. I’m getting promoted to Regional Assistant Manager and transferred to Portland. Come with me. It’s beautiful in Portland. You can divorce that cluck husband of yours in Reno. It’s on the way.
I love you,
Bill
Sales Representative
Electrolux Corp.
P.S. Those kids aren’t yours. I think The Onion sent them over as a prank. Ignore 'em.
You should have smacked Bobby in the face for trying to get fresh. And do not go out with him again.
I’ve always told you that Negroes are just as good as anyone and that you have to be nice to them because they haven’t had the advantages we have. But since when did your school have Negroes in it? Are they moving into this neighborhood? Oh, dear, I’d better talk to your father about this. We may have to sell the house and move to Springfield.
I am not a “drunk.” I just like a little Tom Collins once in awhile.
It’s true that a 50’s mom has it a little better of than her mom, but I have only a cleaning woman, not a full-time housekeeper. The rest of my day is spent with committee meetings, my bridge club, PTA meetings, shopping and other errands. I have to do that all and still get home in time to prepare a delicious dinner from scratch. Until they invent some sort of oven that can defrost meat and cook vegetables in just minutes, and until they invent some type of fabric that’s permanently pressed, cooking and ironing will take hours.
Don’t panic! Lysol is for mopping floors and rinsing diaper pails. Stay with your regular douche. Now, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Are you still trim and youthful? Have you fixed your hair for him? Remember, all us 50’s moms have to compete with 50’s secretary – not to mention Betty, that tramp divorcee down the street.
Oh sure. Go to your damn lodge meeting, while I’m stuck here with cooking and cleaning and laundry all day, and I have to go to those damn committee meetings and the PTA and shop for your damn dinner while Tommy stays out too long after school and Sandy is asking me questions that make me think she’s running with a fast crowd and your damn dinner is in the oven!
Didn’t you read that copy of “Ann Landers Talks to Teens About Sex” that I gave you? Now I have to plan your wedding.
Dinner’s in the oven, unless your father ate everything. Mommy’s just trying out her new scalp massager. I’ll be out in a few minutes.
Bill,
You know that a sleek, modern Electrolux is one of the things that makes my life easier, and I’m certainly grateful for all the help you gave me in learning how to use the attachments. But a 50’s mom is a one-man gal. Whenever I feel like my husband doesn’t appreciate me, I just look at this beautiful house and our two wonderful kids, mix myself another Tom Collins, and know that I’m fulfilled.
Just for the record, though, Portland, Maine or Portland, Oregon?
Oh, my, I knew this day would come. My little boy is growing up and ready to learn about the facts of life. When a man and a woman love each other very much, first they get married and then the man puts a seed into his wife’s tummy. Now, why don’t you read this copy of “Ann Landers Talks to Teens About Sex” while mommy makes herself a great big Tom Collins.
I don’t think salt is a spice, because we put it in everything. But of course mayonaise is a spice. Just like ketchup.
Whew! You’re certainly curious. Now I have to start dinner, and make myself a Tom Collins.
How come when I ask **50’s Dad ** questions about where babies come from, he always tells me to go ask you? Doesn’t he know? If he doesn’t know, then where do you get me and Sandy from?
Now, Tommy, let’s be fair to your Dad. He’s out there all day, working hard so you can live in this great house and have a bicycle and a television. Why, did you know that right now in the 1950s there are children your age who don’t even have a television?
Besides, when you cut your finger, have a tummy ache, feel like you have a fever, or even just feel bad, aren’t I the one you always come to first? Well then, it’s only natural that your father would want you to ask me first about babies.
Babies are a special gift from heaven and they’re ONLY for married mommies and daddies.
Do I have to stop riding my bicycle now that I am “becoming a woman”? Should I get rides home from school from the senior boy with the Corvette instead? He seems so nice and he even says he will show me a hidden place with nice views of the town! It would really impress the older girls in our Future Homemakers of America chapter if I could find a place with nice views for our spring picnic!
Sincerely,
Cynthia
P.S. Now that I am becoming a woman, please don’t call me Cindy anymore.
Dear Aunt 50’s Mom
Mom, your loving sister, has asked me to come live with you for a bit while she “gets some rest”
The kids in school here make fun of my dress and my make up. I get upset so easily. Is there any word of advice you can give me to get me thru these rough patches.
Your Loving Nephew Paul
Dear “Cynthia”
My goodness you’ve become quite the young lady, haven’t you? But you’ll always be little “Cindy with the skinned knee” to 50’s Mom.
It’s perfectly proper for you to ride your bike even though you’re growing up. Of course you need to wear a long skirt.
As for the nice boy with the Corvette, I’m surprised that young men are still trying those tired old excuses to get girls to go with them and “make out” (I think that’s what you kids call it.) I had a little experience with that back when I was Bobby Sox Girl. Always make sure to have bus fare and a dime for the phone in case he tries to play the “hereafter game” with you. You know, the one where he says “If you’re not here after what I’m here after, you’ll be here after I’m gone.” If he’s a gentleman, he’ll stop that when you tell him to. If he’s not a gentleman, remember what your mom taught you about using your knee.
Paul, it’s so nice to hear from you. For someone who’s such a nice and gentle boy, you’ve certainly always been a handful for your mother.
You know kids will always tease, just like they did a few years ago when you said you want to dance in a Broadway musical when you grow up. If you want my advice, I suggest getting together with a group of boys who are working together. Like the Boy Scouts. Try to spend a lot of time with the Scoutmaster, he’s a good influence. Don’t ignore your spiritual training, either. Are you still an altar boy at church?