In 1944 Anthony E. Platt, an English musician, applied for a patent for a mystery themed board game, originally named “Murder!” The game was later renamed Clue upon its distribution in the United States in 1949. The game of Clue was created as a means of passing the time during World War II when individuals, due to lengthy air raid drills, found themselves and their families waiting in their underground bunkers for long periods of time.
The story behind the game was this; the mysterious Mr. Boddy had invited six of his dearest friends to a dinner party at his large Tudor style home. The guest list included the following cast of characters: a sultry and beautiful actress Miss. Vivienne Scarlet, the militant and athletic Col. Michael Mustard, the conniving and religious priest Reverend Jonathan Green, the sinister and political senator Mrs. Elizabeth Peacock, the uptight and intelligent Professor Peter Plum and of course the intrusive and kindly maid Mrs. Blanche White.
During the course of events Mr. Boddy is discovered dead in the stairwell of his nine room mansion. It then falls to the players of the game to deduce who amongst the six guests committed the murder, in which room the murder took place, and with which one of the six possible weapons the crime was committed. This mystery solving undertaking was done through a series of process of elimination questions and attention to detail detective style note taking.
And so it was, that through the magic of the game, reality was suspended if but for just two eventful hours, and players had within themselves all the skills necessary to solve a mystery.
Ever since she was a child, the mother has always loved a good mystery. More than likely, the mother’s thrill was connected to the solving of said mysteries rather than the actual mysteries themselves, but the fact remains…. she was a fan of the genre. Subsequently, it was in her middle school years, that the mother was first introduced to 1950’s and 1960’s cinema….and this was where she watched with keen interest, an array of films filled with mystery and suspense. Two of the mother’s all time favorite films had to be How to Steal A Million and To Catch a Thief.
In the 1966, How to Steal a Million the mother observed Audrey Hepburn and Peter O’Toole’s duplicitous scheming, and thieving……for the best of causes of course, and their ultimate falling in love. Amidst the thematic elements of the story was an underlying truth, crisis can either draw or divide the character players.
In Alfred Hitchcock’s 1955 masterpiece, To Catch a Thief, Carey Grant and Grace Kelly told the tale of a reformed cat burglar attempting to both clear his name amidst the stirrings of a new copy cat crime wave, all the while making time to woe the demure and equally confident daughter of a wealthy would-be-ideal next jewel heist mark. Amidst the elements of this story, one would find the underlying truth that you never really know a person’s true character until analyzed under the microscope of conflict.
For reasons the mother is still not quite certain, it was after viewing these films that she felt compelled to brush up on her rather non-existent cat burglar skills by practicing some of the most fundamental elements. The first and most obvious skill of course being lock picking. The mother would lock herself out of her family home and attempt to break back in, through an array of various means. (The mother may or may not have damaged a bedroom window screen in one such ill-fated attempt.)
Additionally, and arguably more dangerous, was the mother’s insistence on running through a series of roof top chasing drills, in which she would climb to the roof of her home and jump from there to her father’s shop, then to the neighbors house, ultimately making her last leap onto her backyard playhouse roof. Why this questionable behavior did not result in any broken bones the mother has no idea.
It would seem to go without saying, that the mother loved a good mystery and all its elements during the childhood season of her life, where most all other aspects were logical and predictable. I’m sure it could be said for many of us, that though we might love the notion of the unexpected we often do not fully consider the full scope of the unexpected’s implications. The mother however, clearly had a romanticized notion of what a good mystery in her life might entail and enjoyed each mysterious encounter thoroughly…..that is…. until she became a mother.
When the boy was born, the mother quickly found herself drawn into the seedy underworld of immune system labyrinths and food allergy conundrums. There certainly had been no baby shower games to prepare her for the horrors that followed during the boys first year of life. No one handed her skin lesion and rash flash cards, shellacked with artist glue tied, and flourished with a decorative ribbon. There were no pamphlets handed out at the obstetrician’s office in regards to support groups for immunize compromised children. No one gave you lessons on how to eat out with your allergy child, attend a play date or worst of all a birthday party with a child who literally could eat nothing the other children were eating. In a sea of information and technology, the mother felt that there was very little helpful information on the why’s and how’s of navigating a life with a child who possessed a food allergy.
Much like the game of Clue, the mother was just certain she would one day have to say something like “It was the boy, on the playground, with the cheesy goldfish cracker,” that might be their not so mysterious undoing.
When the blonde was born, she did not seem to love all the things that babies and certainly the boy had taken comfort in. Napping was minimally tolerated and nursing seemed to be a great source of annoyance and discomfort. The mother, after some very frustrating months, finally enlisted the help of the La Leche League, an organization with an above average zeal for the nursing process. They offer a wide variety of troubleshooting techniques one could try should the nursing process not be going as well as a mother would have ideally preferred. The mother had to determine how to make nursing more agreeable to a rather un-agreeable baby.
Much like the game of Clue, the mother was just certain she would one day have to say something like “It was the blonde, in the rocking chair at 2:00 a.m., with the empty bottle of gripe water,” that might be their not so mysterious undoing.
The brunette of course was an entirely other matter all-together. Her medical abnormalities were both unexpected and extensive, affecting over 60% of her body. The mother quickly had to educate herself on the ins and outs of vascular anomalies, birth marking and port wine stains. She then worked with specialists over a period of four months both through the examination of the brunette’s skin, eyes, and brain. All the while, systematically ruling out any possible medical side affects connected to the little girl’s condition. Ultimately the matter was deemed a cosmeticological vascular anomaly. (More of that story can be found in The Elephant in the Room Idiomation.)
Much like the game of Clue, the mother was just certain she would one day say something like, “It was the brunette, on the surgeons table and a mis-measured administration of anesthesia,” that might be their not so mysterious undoing.
Each child is so unique. Each medical mystery is so varied. And yet the same mother has somehow been tasked to navigate them all, and to solve the mysteries of each of her children.
And so it was, as the mother and the baby sat on this particular morning in the office of an Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) doctor, in an attempt to solve yet another mystery, the mother found herself sighing. One would think at this point, the navigation of medical mysteries would be par for the course in their house, but to the mother…. it never seemed to get any easier.
As the mother watched the happy little fair-haired baby, toddle around the waiting room of the doctor’s office, the little girl suddenly stopped and looked towards her mother with big, bright, blue eyes. The look on her face is one of total trust. She believes her mother has nothing but her best interests in mind. (The mother makes a mental note to photograph this look of total trust, as evidence to present to the little girl when she is 15 years old, and most likely highly suspicious of her mother’s advice giving intentions.) The mother suddenly feels the weight of trust’s burden.
A moment later, the baby’s name is called, and the mother bends down to scoop up the little girl. Pulling her into her chest, the baby reaches her little chubby hand up to touch the mother’s cheek. Her warm fingers simply rest on her mothers face, and then the baby smiles, wrinkling her little nose, as they head back to undergo a series of tests.
The first test they must undertake involves the assessing of eardrum movement. In a healthy ear, the eardrum is allowed to move freely. It is revealed the baby has no ear drum movement in either ear, thus establishing the presence of unwelcome fluid.
The second test assesses the ability to hear six frequencies in each ear. This test does not have a scale on which one is assessed. It is simply a pass-fail examination. Thankfully the left ear passes but the right ear sadly fails the test. The fluid is officially impacting the quality of the baby’s hearing.
The baby and mother proceed to the second room, where they await the arrival of the doctor. The mother suddenly feels like the room is extra warm and very small. She can’t decide if the temperature is truly elevated or if the fact that her mind is whirling at a million miles a minute is actually causing her to have a literal nervous system response to the revealing events of the morning.
The doctor finally arrives, and after they review the hearing exam findings, he then places some drops into the baby’s nose. The drops will cause a numbing affect so that he can more easily place a fiber optic scope inside of the baby’s sinus passages. Finishing the drops, the doctor turns to leave the room, and jokingly says over his shoulder, “this mom, is going to be a real test of your strength. Generally, even with the drops, babies do not really care for people shoving things up their noses. It’s important for you to keep her hands still so that she doesn’t damage the scope.” The mother laughs nervously and suddenly thinks it might be a bit like an individual who drives away with the gas pump handle still firmly inserted into their car. What should otherwise be a routine stop suddenly could become quite a costly outing.
After the drops have been given a chance to take affect, the mother and baby are ushered into the third and final room. The baby is sitting on her mother’s lap, wide eyed as she glances from the mother, to the doctor, and then back to her mother. As the nurse holds the baby’s head in place, the mother presses the little wiggling body against her chest, while the doctor inserts the scope. The baby is not at all pleased with this entire ordeal. Possibly more about the fact that she is being restrained against her will over the fact that an instrument is being placed up her nostrils.
“And there it is. Now I see what we have going on here,” the doctor states. “Sure enough, her adenoids are enlarged.” Almost unconsciously the mother lets out a breath as if she had been holding it for four months. There is was….exactly as she had guessed.
Even from the earliest of ages, the baby seemed to have difficultly breathing, struggled with ear infections, and constantly battled a little cough. Her sleep had always been more of a challenge than the mother would have preferred, both for the baby and for herself. Developmentally, though the little girl was leaps ahead on all physical fronts, her language development the mother felt was delayed due to whatever was happening with the fluid in her ears.
In that moment, everything was coming into focus as the doctor said, “It is my recommendation that she undergo surgery to insert the ear tubes, and in light of the severity, remove the adenoids.”
Even though the mother had predicted both these issues before even going to see the specialist, hearing that her suspicions had been correct strangely did not make her feel better. In truth the mother was wishing that this time….. she might be wrong.
Unlike the game of Clue, the mother had secretly been hoping not to hear the doctor say, “It needs to be the baby, on the surgeon’s table, with the scalpel.” This was one mystery she had not wanted to solve.
As the mother left the doctors office, mulling over all the things he had told her that morning. She felt both an equal sense of peace about their next steps and yet sadness that, even though rather routine, her sweet baby should have to undergo a surgery at only 11 months old.
Before they had even left the parking lot, the mother looked in the rear view mirror and saw the baby, fast asleep. The morning, it would seem, had been draining for the little girl as well. As the mother saw her sleeping so peacefully, the mother rested in the fact that even though she would have wished for an easier path, she took comfort in the fact that deep within her own spirit was a young girl who loved to solve a good mystery. In her role as medical advocate for her children, the mother truly believed this sleuthing spirit had most certainly served her well.
The Motherhood in Technicolor Memo: Having to be a medical advocate for your child is at times exhausting, frustrating and often riddled with mystery. It is quite possible you didn’t personally posses the cultish level of enthusiasm for mystery solving board games that the mother did as a child. Arguably, having this love for the unsolved, might have better prepared you for this aspect of parenting. However, through the journey of parenthood, we are asked to wear many hats we do not necessarily feel fit us well. Putting on our detective’s hat often asks us to redefine our expectations of what it means to solve a mystery. It is possible solving the mystery will not actually leave us with a sense of victory. The real lesson we are teaching our children; however, is that no matter the cards life may deal you……each of us has the ability to win our own game.
Summer Smith is a speaker, writer, and motherhood blogger. She and her family are currently navigating the suburbs of Northern Virginia. As the mother to four young children, Summer maintains her sanity thanks to her sense of humor, copious amounts of coffee, and Amazon Prime. Maya Angelou once said, when reflecting on her childhood, that her mother left an impression like technicolor stars in the midnight sky. Influenced by these words, Summer blogs at her website Motherhood in Technicolor, and can also be found on her Motherhood in Technicolor Facebook page.