Whole-hearted, half-baked

Ricky: What's so bad with being a drummer?

Lucy: It's just not good enough for a son of mine.

Ricky: Well, it's good enough for a husband of yours.

Lucy: Well, that's different.

Ricky: How is that different?

Lucy: He's my flesh and blood. You're just a close relative.

Motherhood is tricky business, a thorny subject to dance around. As a mother of two who is frankly relieved if my kids are breathing at the end of every chaotic day, I don’t buy into the “perfect mother” myth. I suspect Lucy didn’t either. Unfortunately, we viewers don’t get to see the former Miss McGillicuddy up to her elbows in motherly dirty work: diaper changes, time-outs…those everyday chores existed only off-screen. This doesn’t really matter, though, because what we are privy to tells us everything we need to know about Lucy’s mothering style: Whole-hearted, if half-baked. (Just like me!)

In Episode 136, “Nursery School,” a nurse at the hospital where Little Ricky is getting his tonsils removed informs Lucy that she isn’t allowed to stay overnight with her son. As if! Lucy stuffs Little Ricky’s teddy bear under her coat, posing as an expectant mother, to get past the front door; once inside, she smartly snatches a nurse’s uniform. Needless to say, Little Ricky does not spend the night in his hospital room alone. Any mother – myself included – who has spent such a night “sleeping” in the pediatrics ward at her child’s bedside can relate to Lucy’s determination in this case.

True maternal grit is shown in Episode 163, “Little Ricky’s School Pageant.” Not every mother would fly across the stage of a grade school auditorium dressed as a witch to help her shy son remember his lines. Along “it takes a village” lines, Ethel, Fred and Ricky step up, too, playing a fairy princess, a frog, and a hollow tree, respectively. (If you ask me, Ricky gets off easy.)

For mothers today, one of the most relatable - almost prophetic - episodes about parenting was #157, "Little Ricky Learns to Play Drums." Long before over-scheduling kids with "enriching" activities became a trend, Lucy recognized the importance of encouraging children's interests and nurturing potential talent. Though she fantasizes about raising a future physician, Lucy is unabashedly supportive when Little Ricky decides he wants to play the drums. (Naturally, big Ricky is all for his son's career choice). In fact, both parents are so enthusiastic that they allow Little Ricky to play the same beat on his drum over and over and over again for four days straight. Eventually, everything they do is synced to Little Ricky's rhythm: Cracking eggs, scraping burnt toast, chewing. Downstairs, the Mertzes are likewise afflicted (even Ethel, trying to get Fred's attention, speaks in time: "Fred. Fred. Fred, Fred, Fred!"). Lucy and Ricky are as weary of the ceaseless beat as the rest of the building, but show appropriate parental indignation when the Mertzes complain. A fight of epic proportions ensues (and is comically resolved) but Lucy never wavers. Agonizingly repetitive as Little Ricky might be, she has no doubt her son is a musical genius.

I was reminded of this episode last night, at a restaurant where I was eating dinner with my mother, my five-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter. It was one of those miraculous evenings when my children were oddly well-behaved, quietly reading and coloring at the table as we waited for our food. Sadly, the two moms seated at the table to our left were having a very different dining experience. Their five small charges were deep in the throes of pre-bedtime hyperactivity, popping under the table, running in circles, tossing ice cream and shrieking. It was significantly distracting, but I couldn't allow myself to be annoyed, knowing that my children have similarly irritated innocent restaurant patrons despite my best efforts to quiet them down. (Anyway, the rowdy group was already on dessert well before our entrees arrived.) As they walked by on their way out, one of the moms stopped at my table. "I'm so sorry about the noise," she said. "I don't know what got into them."

"Please, don't apologize," I said. "I've been there! Didn't bother us at all."

A lie, yes. But, more precisely, an example of simple parent-to-parent etiquette based on an unspoken rule of motherhood so perfectly illustrated by Lucy's defense of her little drummer boy: We are allowed to complain about our own children's actions, but should anyone else dare to voice their displeasure...! Unleash the redheaded dragon.

My daughter was about three when she threw a huge tantrum in the middle of our walk home from the park. I've since forgotten what she was so upset about, but I do remember with perfect clarity the high decibel screams coming out of her mouth. I was trying my hardest to calm my daughter down when two older ladies walked by, one of whom pointedly shook her head and covered her ears.

That's when I threw a little tantrum of my own. Am I proud of yelling obscenities at senior citizens in front of my preschooler on a public sidewalk? No. Would I do it again? Would Lucy? Oh yeah.

Climbing The Ladder of Success (No Matter Who Gets Knocked off)

Ethel: There are a lot of things you’re good at.

Lucy: Like what?

Ethel: Well, you’re awfully good at…uh…you’ve always been great at…

Lucy: Those are the same ones Ricky came up with.

Poor Lucy. Her problem wasn’t a lack of aptitude, it was an overabundance of talent – and nowhere to put it.

Cast in the role of wife and mother, Lucy dreamed of becoming a star in her own right. In Episode 65, “Ricky’s Life Story,” Lucy explained to Ricky: “It’s only because of Little Ricky that I want to get my break in show business...when he goes to school and his playmates ask who his parents are, just what is he going to have to say? ‘My father is Ricky Ricardo, the internationally known entertainer. And then there’s my mother, whose name escapes me for the moment.’”

Lucy was looking for much more than fame, she was searching for validation outside of the domestic sphere, something women today – even those straddling both career and motherhood – still struggle to find. (If that line of thinking sounds antiquated to you, consider the fact that as recently as 2004, the U.S. Census Bureau reported that women made only 75.5 cents to every man’s dollar.)

A little recognition, that’s all we want. Lucy’s top career choice may have been show biz, but that didn’t stop her from throwing herself into a staggering array of unrelated enterprises, from salad dressing manufacturer to butcher to Vitameatavegamin spokeswoman to, perhaps most famously, chocolate factory worker. No matter what job she wanted, she never let trivial things like experience get in her way.

I get it. When I was a young and struggling actress frustrated at being shut out from major film auditions (one required a heavy-hitting agent to line those up), what did I do? Used my mother as a temporary “Ethel” and invented a non-existent talent agency. Am I a star? No. Did I almost get to be in a movie with Brad Pitt? Yes. (But I try not to think about it.) It's common practice on a variety of levels, whether you're a teenager writing your best friend's name down under "Most Recent Employer" on your first job application or a mid-level executive bluffing your way through the latest software ("Sure, I'm familiar with that program.").

Lucy knew she had potential. Most of us suspect the same of ourselves. But what set Lucy apart was how far she was willing to go to prove it - no matter what (or who) stood in her way.

Consider the many, many occasions on which Ricky attempted to keep his wife in the wings. Not only did Lucy always find some way into the show, she usually managed to upstage Ricky in the process. In the aforementioned episode, "Ricky's Life Story," Lucy is enraged to find that Ricky has tricked her into gratefully accepting a silent role in his routine (sitting on a balcony, holding a rose in her teeth while he serenades her with "Lady of Spain."). She keeps quiet, all right...but hams it up for the audience performing magic tricks whenever Ricky turns his back. A stellar show-stealer, that Lucy.

And so, on days when I'm feeling a little low on mojo, I remember Lucy with that rose between her teeth and think: This show is mine for the stealing.

I encourage you to do the same.

Get Rich Quick (and Hide Debt Fast)

Lucy: This is my system for paying bills. You see, I throw them all up in the air and the ones that land face up are the winners.

Ethel: By the “winners” you mean the ones you pay?

Lucy: Uh-huh.

Ethel: But what happens if they all land face up?

Lucy: Well then I just switch. I only pay the ones that lay face down.

Okay, so Lucy was in the red more often than not. (At least her money management philosophy matched her hair color.) Have you no credit card debt? Have you no student loans looming over your head like an ever-present sword of Damocles?

The key differences between Lucy's financial problems and our own are her stunningly inventive solutions.

I've already referenced several of them on this blog - her table-turning way of dealing with a strict "business manager," her faux charity raffle, her gutsy funding of the Fine Arts League Operetta with a post-dated check (possibly my favorite if only because that episode includes the beyond-classic "Queen of the Gypsies" number).

But Lucy wasn't all about patching up holes in her piggy bank. Her business sense was right up there with her imaginative powers; indeed, I would say one complemented the other.

For example: The transplanted city girl was willing to take up poultry farming to help pay the bills at the Ricardo's Connecticut residence (Episode 171, "Lucy Raises Chickens"). Even those without a vivid visual memory of every I Love Lucy moment (like me) can immediately bring to mind the image of Lucy chasing hundreds of fluff balls on feet around the house, sweating from the sweltering heat (turned up for the sake of the baby chicks).

No, Lucy was not opposed to hard work, nor was she particularly careless with money, in my opinion. Nevertheless, ends wouldn't always meet - without a little stretching. I can relate, as I'm guessing most of America can right now.

At the risk of getting arrested for what I'm about to write, I will elaborate. I hate my leased car, a lemon made by one of the several automobile manufacturers that went belly up this year. My lease is almost up, but not quite. I've tried talking to the dealership (here's a hint: the make is named after a planet with rings around it) about how to get out of the lease based on all of the problems I've had with the car, I've tried an online lease-swapping service (don't do it! It's a scam!), I've tried everything I can think of to get rid of this falling apart death machine before paying another cent. (Like I have a spare $300 per month to waste on a borrowed possession I despise!) I've been joking for months about driving my car into a crime-riddled neighborhood and leaving it there, but last week I actually found myself Googling "how to fake a car theft." And here's the best part: I didn't get any useful tips, but I did learn that the number of faked car thefts in this country is positively soaring! Proof that people nationwide are being driven (no pun intended) to crisis management strategies worthy of Queen Lucy herself!

My only fear is that the authorities won't have the same reaction Ricky would have to such a scheme - a brief, bug-eyed temper fit followed by affectionate resignation ("Oh, Lucy.")

I'd rather get spanked by an exasperated Cuban than sent to the big house.

Anybody interested in stealing my car?