Sisterhood of the Pink Pajamas

Walking to get the mail on a crisp November morning is a chore every struggling writer dreads. Now that the kids are all in school I should be able to spend six hours a day creating a world, other homemakers would kill to be a part of.



Instead, I spend the first two hours hustling children off to school. The next two hours I spend cleaning up the tornado they leave behind. Retrieving the mail lately has become a collection of rejection letters from the little bit of work I’ve been able to accomplish.



This morning as I stand at the mailbox, I only hope to find a million dollar check with Ed McMahon’s face on it. Unfortunately, today’s mail is slim pickings with only two envelopes. Neither one has Ed’s face on it.



Last night I told Kim, my writing coach, I would spend two hours writing today. That is just what I am going to do. Putting the envelopes aside, I head to my office. I need to let the ideas flow through my fingertips onto the screen. Today, the waterfall on the corner of my desk only makes me wish I were at my getaway nestled in the woods at camp.



Most people have a place where they feel completely at peace. No one can trample on the happiness they feel when they are there. Maybe if I drive out there I can get some work done sitting on the rocks near the falls. In this cold they would probably find my lifeless body frozen with pen in hand; nothing written on the paper. I began to write; “The body of a local writer was found frozen today at Cliff Falls Park and campground. Park officials speculate that she was trying to find inspiration and motivation near her favorite rock this afternoon, sadly her writing pad was empty.”



I have been sitting here nearly an hour. All I managed to write is a news story about my own premature death and it wasn’t even very exciting. Putting on my headset, I decide to climb on the treadmill and record my thoughts. Maybe, magically I’ll find something in my ramblings that I can use as a story idea. One hour and not one usable word recorded. I am finally done for the time being. It is time for a shower and to pick the kids up from school.



I grabbed the mail from the table near the door, and then headed out to pick the kids up. As I sit waiting for the kids, I open the first envelope. I received my first acceptance letter. A writing contest I entered two months ago. Hell I forgot all about that piece. I am now a paid writer. The elation is more than I could ever have imagined. I need to celebrate. Maybe we’ll order in tonight for a change. Money has been so tight with only one income.



The second envelope is an even bigger surprise. Jeanette Andrews is having a pajama party for the four members of ACES. A music group I was in during high school. Jeanette Andrews, Dawn Carson, Jennifer English and Beth Sanders were the four members. Wow, the four of us were inseparable back then. No two of us lives more than ten miles from the other, but we haven’t really talked in the twenty plus years since high school. I hear Jeanette Andrews has just gone through a nasty divorce. I wanted to do something for her when I heard but it is hard to pick up the phone after so many years.



The pajama party is this Saturday, only five days away. The invite tells us to arrive in our pink pajamas and bring a pink hat of any style that we can put pins into. We are also to bring any twenty items that tells of something in our lives of the past twenty years, this item needs to be smaller than two finger width. Food and drink Saturday night will be provided but we each need to bring $15 for breakfast. We will do facials and hair so bring your curlers!



This sounds like a blast. There is nothing else planned for Saturday so I guess it’s a trip to the mall tonight to get ready. I need a new pair of jammies, some cute fuzzy slippers, curlers, and a couple cds to play at the party. I picked up my cellphone; called the number Jeanette left on the invite and told her I couldn’t wait for our reunion. This might be just the break I need to unlock the mind and spirit so that I can get on with my new career.



I treated myself on Saturday afternoon to a mani/pedi. Pink fingernails and toenails, pink pajamas covered in conversation hearts, pink fuzzy slippers and everything else needed for an ACES reunion in my daughters pink overnight bag. I walked out the door. I pulled into the driveway of the address given on Jeanette’s invite to see a big pink banner: Welcome to the Sisterhood of Pink Pajamas!



Oh my! What did she have in store for us tonight? Something tells me tonight will be a night none of us will ever forget. Jeanette answered the door.



“I know I am a little early but I wanted to be the first one here. I was feeling a little guilty about not calling you when I heard of your recent divorce. ”



“Nonsense,” Jeanette began, “tonight is not about pain and sorrow; tonight is about new beginnings and rekindling old friendships!”



“The Sisterhood of Pink Pajamas?” I asked



“I will explain everything when we get started. First, you have to wait for Jenn and Dawn to show up. I haven’t seen any of you since high school. That is all about to change.”



Jenn and Dawn showed up right on time and we all spent the first hour catching up. Jeanette provided a table full of finger foods.



“I called you here today to not only catch up with my oldest and dearest friends but to also tell you my exciting news for the future.” Jeanette began. “As you have all probably heard I have recently gone through a horrible divorce. The only saving grace is that I have no child which means no ties to that man for the rest of my life.”



“In trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, I began to look at how I will move forward. Three months ago, my pastor challenged me to write down everything I experienced in my marriage. When I did that, my next path became very clear to me. The Sisterhood of the Pink Pajamas is my first step forward.”



“It is a nonprofit business whose purpose is to raise money and awareness of domestic abuse. My ex-husband never laid a hand on me but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make my life miserable. Throughout my twenty year marriage it never occurred to me that the negative comments my husband has made to me bruised my self-esteem. Verbal and emotional abuse is just as damaging to a woman’s soul as physical violence is to her body.”



“I have called you all here today to ask your help. Through the sisterhood we would hold sleepovers throughout this region and possibly expand to other parts of the state and the nation. The person hosting a pajama party would invite any old friends she’d lost contact with. We will provide activities and information to keep women strong and united against all forms of abuse.”



“While creating this program, I decided, I need to start with my old friends. Just as you had no idea how bad my relationship was I have no idea the status of your relationships. I am not asking you to share if you don’t want to I am just asking that you hear the program details. I want you to consider being a part of my board of directors.”



“As you have all found out tonight we are the best possible board for this endeavor. I am a survivor of a hurtful marriage. Dawn is a legal assistant in a law firm specializing in business law. Beth is a writer. Jenn has been a real success in the business of fundraising for the PTO she works with. I couldn’t have been luckier to have such a diverse group for my very first sisterhood pajama party. Please do not make any decisions now. Just sit back and enjoy the activities I have planned for you.”



We started with talking about the years between high school and now by taking turns pinning an item we brought to represent our life onto our pink hat. When we were done with that, we chanted a short poem Jeanette had written. Jeanette gave us each a sisterhood t-shirt. Our shirts pointed out that we are the original sisterhood. Next, Jeanette had invited a friend of hers from church who teaches a belly dance class to talk about starting a business and to teach a few belly dance moves. It was very fun and surprisingly easier than I thought. Who knew a room full of plus size women could pull off belly dance moves that easily. After the dance instructor left, we laughed during facials and put our hair up into curlers. We thought for sure we would be ready for bed.



Jeanette dropped another surprise on us. “Strong women have a great sense of self-esteem and could care less what we look like when going grocery shopping right? What is the worst you’ve ever looked at the grocery store?”



“Wow,” Dawn started, “I went to the store for formula once in the middle of the night with messy hair pulled back into scrunchy bun, my shirt was covered in baby spit up and I was so tired I probably looked like a zombie.”



“Yeah,” Jenn agreed, “I think we’ve all done that.”



“My ex-husband told me day after day that I should wear make up to the store. If I didn’t, everyone who looked at me would be judging my bad looks. Even if I had to go out to the store late at night I took a shower and redid my make-up. Tonight’s assignment sisterhood? We are leaving right now to get items for our breakfast tomorrow. We are wearing our pajamas, slippers and curlers to the grocery store ladies. Are we ready to go, who’s driving?”



“I drove here in my slippers, I will drive to the store,” I replied.



The supermarket was filled with workers who’d rather be home with their families, or out partying at two am on a Sunday Morning. They were all enchanted with the stories we told about our sisterhood night. One girl even scheduled a sisterhood night with her friends even though she’d been only out of school less than a year.



We returned back to Jeanette’s house by 3am.We played silly teenage games like twister and truth or dare. We had a séance. We danced to all our old favorites while we drank wine. We made it into our sleeping bags on the big family room floor in front of the fireplace by 5am.



I awoke at 10, while everyone else was still asleep. I threw on my slippers and went to the kitchen to start the coffee for the other girls. I stepped out to the patio to sneak my first cup. I picked up her morning paper only to discover that our pictures were on the front page. Who would have thought that the fun antics of four old high school friends would make front-page news?