Bonus Mom, Episode 12, October 4, 2024
“So, that’s the secret to perfect hard-boiled eggs. Now a listener question. Kathryn wants to make her scrambled eggs fluffier. Make sure you really whisk them before they go in the pan. Gentle heat and a splash of half-n-half help, too.”
2004
I wonder how many more Easters Penny will believe. I’ve gone all out in case this is the last. Three dozen eggs have been dyed, glittered and hidden all over the backyard. But Penny’s oblivious. She’s focused on the dollar-store garden gnome tucked in the back of her basket. She names him Sherlock Gnomes and whispers her secrets into his stone ear. I overhear her tell him where she’s hidden extra fruit rollups.
I watch Penny look under shrubs for hidden treasures—tiny hands smudged with soil—and I know this is everything. This is all I will ever need.
2017
When Penny graduated high school, I thought I’d done something right. She was mouthy, confident. Unafraid to tell you exactly who she was and what she thought.
Then Penny met Jared. He moved through the world like it owed him a free ride. I bit my tongue when he made fun of her dreams. I looked the other way when he criticized her weight. I thought if I didn’t push, she would wake up and want more for herself.
When Penny dropped out of college, she didn’t ask my opinion. When she moved in with Jared, she didn’t tell me at all. I came home from a work trip to an empty room, Sherlock Gnomes still on her dresser.
She calls when she needs money, but our conversations always fall apart.
“You need some kind of plan, Penny.”
“I don’t need a plan. Especially not yours. I’m not your little girl anymore.”
I whisper, “you’ll always be my little girl,” but Penny’s hung up already.
2019
It always starts the same: a tearful call in the middle of the night. Me rushing to the crappy apartment Penny shares with Jared.
She’s laying quietly on a gurney in the back of the ambulance by the time I get there. I hold her hand, whispering for her to hang on.
“If Jared does it again...”
“Not if, Penny. When. When he does it again.”
“It’s not like that. He’s not like that.”
“Come home. Sherlock Gnomes misses you. I miss you.”
“Jared’s my home now.”
The paramedics motion me out of the ambulance before I can answer.
My car falls in line behind the flashing lights. I know how this ends. Trail behind the ambulance. Sit in the ER. File another report. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Maybe Penny will come home for a day or two, but she’ll go back to Jared. Penny always goes back to Jared.
2021
Penny looks small in the hospital bed. The machines do the heavy lifting now. The doctors tell me her heart is still strong. Her kidneys and liver, too. She’ll save lives they say and that I should take comfort in that.
I don’t.
Her hair still smells like pineapple-melon shampoo. I think about the toddler who crawled into my bed during thunderstorms. The girl who sang Me and Bobby McGee from the back seat. The teenager who shared her secrets with a dollar-store gnome.
What I wouldn’t give to argue with her one more time. To tell her what to do and have her tell me to fuck all the way off.
When the machines go quiet, my life doesn’t end with hers. That’s the hardest part.
Bonus Mom, Episode 64, November 14, 2025
“Remember, you don’t have to spend a lot to make Thanksgiving special. Today’s question is from Maura, a newlywed from Georgia. She asks, ‘How can I be a better wife? My husband says I’ve been a big disappointment so far.’ Maura, I think a better question might be why you want to try so hard for someone who makes you feel so small.”
2024
There’s a new family next door. A young mom with two little boys. They’ve got a trampoline, and the youngest hollers, “hell-oooo” every time he jumps high enough to see over the fence. Hannah’s sweet. And those boys are cute as can be. I like hearing them laugh and argue and play.
One Saturday afternoon, Hannah rings the bell, covered in a thin veil of powdered sugar, a smudge of chocolate on her cheek. “Chase wants cream puffs for his birthday, and I thought to myself Nell seems like someone who might know how to make cream puffs. Am I right?”
Two hours later, we’re sipping coffee and noshing on misshapen extras.
“Thanks for helping me.” Hannah looks at Penny’s picture on the mantle, Sherlock Gnomes standing by her side, still holding her secrets close. “I can’t imagine how much you miss her.”
I feel the words catch in my throat, so I just nod instead.
“From now on, whenever I don’t know how to do something, you’re my go-to. You’ve got so much to share, Nell. You could be a bonus mom to everyone who needs one.”
I laughed. “Think of all the people I could boss around.”
“My mom — she killed herself when I was 15. She…well, let’s just say she was hard to talk to. Not like you. You could really help people, Nell. Everyone needs a mom. And you were born to mother everybody.”
Bonus Mom, Episode 1, April 30, 2024
“Welcome to the first episode of Bonus Mom. I’m Nell, and this is a podcast for anyone looking for maternal advice. I’m not your mom, but I’d love to be your bonus mom. I’ll start by answering a question from a listener. I only have one listener right now that I know of. So, Hannah, you asked what being a mom means to me. It’s everything, Hannah. Absolutely everything.
Author: Lisa Robertson is a Texas-based magazine editor and features writer. Her work has appeared in Rock and a Hard Place, WestWord, Elegant Literature, Writer's Playground and Stone’s Throw, among others. She loves baking and reality television shows and reality television shows about baking.
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.