Every time she'd find a minute

That's the time that they begin it

Cinderelly, Cinderelly Cinderella!

Cinderelly, Cinderelly

Night and day it's Cinderelly

Make the fire! fix the breakfast!

Wash the dishes! do the mopping!!

And the sweeping and the dusting!!!

They always keep her hopping

She goes around in circles

Till she's very, very dizzy

Still they holler

Keep a-busy Cinderelly !!!

-Some singing mice

Once upon a time, Cinderella was young and charming. She lived in the Enchanted Land of Barcelona, Spain – where the wine is divine and the men are so lovely your eyes will water. With abundant free time she pursued every her every interest, taking Jiu Jitsu lessons three times a week and founding Spain’s first Butterfly Watchers Club. She achieved local celebrity status for her decorative clothing sewn from recycled copper wiring. “La Reina del Cobre” they called her in the Barcelona arts scene – The Copper Queen. (In fact, that’s where the name Cinderella came from – Cinde and Rella are, as you know, are Latin for Copper and Queen.)

But Barcelona is a mere prelude to the tale, and thus our story begins many year later.

Cinderella was a mom. She didn’t have “three evil sisters”, just two evil children and an oaf of a husband. And just like in the storybooks, they worked her to the bone. All day long, from the time she woke up until the second her head hit the pillow, poor Cinderella was subjected to endless, meaningless chores and countless indignities.

They say ‘don’t throw your pearls to swine’ and make no mistake - children are swine. She would create fancy breakfasts, like a crepe or German pancake, and the children would throw her beautiful concoctions on the floor and walls. They would scream and whine, and profess that the food was “too salty”. Her husband would indifferently nod at the breakfast. If she wasn’t around he’d probably just eat leftovers for breakfast.

Her husband, for his part, was once upon a time a true prince charming. He would bring her flowers and pretty trinkets, and they would walk hand in hand through flower laden gardens in the cool of the evening. But since as long as anyone could remember, a spell had been cast over him. He had transformed into a horrid, beer guzzling loser. He incessantly listened to sports talk radio and faithfully followed a bunch of unsuccessful franchises that no one cared about.

His very appearance had changed before her eyes. Gone was his gorgeous mane of the past, instead replaced by thinning follicles and random wiry hairs growing from his earlobes. His cough was too loud and his voice was irritating. She couldn’t understand why he’d spit his toothpaste in the sink and leave it there, or put his clean laundry ON TOP of the dresser rather than INTO the dresser! What a buffoon.

The family minivan hadn’t exactly turned into a pumpkin, but was quite possibly a lemon. The battery needed to be replaced and there was a hubcap that had mysteriously gone missing. Every inch of the interior was covered in snack wrappers, broken cracker crumbs, and used tissues. Random bags filled with mysterious items for unknown purposes at undisclosed locations filled the trunk, along with some orphan groceries that hadn’t made it inside the house.

Contrary to what’s been said, Cinderella was not locked in a closet at the end of the day by her evil family. Quite the opposite in fact!

She would purposefully lock herself in the bathroom for just a few reprieving moments of solace and silence. But alas, even the bathroom - the modern-day castle citadel for a house overrun by raging hordes of children - was not safe. Her little gremlins would stand at the door and carry on a conversation, asking her what she was doing, and stare through the crack in the doorframe like Jack Nicolas in The Shining. “Go away!” she’d plead. “For the love of God, just give me one miniscule moment to myself!” Meanwhile, they’d slip cars and papers under the door.

Poor Cinderelly, she slaved away for these three terrible ingrates. Her coffee was always tepid by the time she got around drinking it, and her hair was in a tussle. She worked so hard during the day, just to come home and work even harder at night.

***

The commonly told version of Cinderella is inaccurate. There is no ball hosted by a King at a Palace. And there is no fairy godmother or glass slipper. In fact, that version is more human fantasy than it is fairy tale: to be found by a Prince Charming, to be all at once plucked from a wretched family, in which one is barely more esteemed than a cleaning lady and to go live as royalty in a magical castle. To step out of mundane circumstances and suddenly dwell in a land of enchantment. This didn’t happen to Cinderella, though there are some elements of truth in it.

An announcement went throughout the land that one of Cinderella’s oldest and closest friends would be getting married in their old stomping grounds – Barcelona, Spain. Through much finagling and negotiation, Cinderella would be able to attend. She had miraculously managed to wrangle a whole five days away from home and head over for an extended weekend. Her husband and children, would be back home living like unattended zoo animals: barely subsisting off of granola bars, cold sandwiches and countless hours of television.

And oh, what a wonderous time she had back in her old town! Everything was so enchanting and clean. Unlike her own house, which often looked like they’d been victims of a robbery, the hotel room was tidy and the linens were folded. By the second day of her trip she felt ten years younger. That’s when it occurred to her – she was not old but the children made her old.

She was clear headed for the first time in a long time, thinking her own thoughts – long thoughts, deep thoughts. She had initiative during that trip to go where she wanted, do things that piqued her interest or choose to do nothing at all. La Reina del Cobre began to slowly emerge from the mom haze.

She slept the glorious sleep of someone with no responsibilities. She went out late and slept in late. She ate at restaurants, where someone else cooked the food and washed the dishes.

She observed the life of others in this land of enchantment: they seemed sharp and unharried. They departed their houses, with no great effort, and arrived wherever they were going on time. They carried nothing but purses or wallets and wore unstained garments.

The wedding was to take place on the third night. Cinderella had brought over a special gown to wear during the festivities, something she’d be saving for a while. But to her horror, she opened the suitcase only to discover it had been ruined! One of the evil children had poured an entire box of macaroni and cheese powder into her suitcase, ruining her outfit and some of the toiletries. Sobbing the tears of a broken mother, she thought to herself, “Now I’ll never be able to go to the ball…”

It wasn’t long afterwards that her Spanish Godmother, Feriae called up to see how she was doing. They were both in town for the wedding and had been planning to get brunch. “Oh, my dress is in tatters…” Cinderella explained over the phone. It seemed coming had been an unrealistic idea after all.

But Godmother would hear none of it, her positive energy snapped into action. “Get dressed my dear, we are taking you to get a new gown!” And off they went, down to the fashionable shops and the meandering boulevards where all the world’s most beautiful clothes were being sold. Cinderella tried on outfits all afternoon, unrushed by her balding husband’s impatience and her children’s constant nagging and demands for snacks. They picked out some stunning pieces and then celebrated at a nearby café over tapas and Catalonian wine.

Bippity boppity boo. Transformed in a matter of mere days, the Copper Queen rocked up to the wedding looking fresh and turning heads. She caught up with old friends, and made new acquaintances over cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. It was a beautiful ceremony and reception afterwards. They partied all night eventually ending up at a nightclub called The Glass Slipper. But as the clock struck midnight, a combination of jetlag plus her ingrained schedule as mom began to kick in. She knew it was time to leave, lest she turn into a pumpkin and fall asleep right there in the middle of the dance floor. Rushing for the exit, she made her way into a cab, back to the hotel, and slipped into bed, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

***

On the fifth day, The Copper Queen flew home from the Land of Enchantment. She was eager and expectant.

Perhaps motherhood is a mild form of mental illness. But truth be told, for all the fun she was having, Cinderella had begun to desperately miss those evil children and dummy of a husband by the second day of her trip.

This is the insanity of being a mom: to experience a respite from ones saddling obligations and yet wish to return. Cinderella had a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome, a dilemma where one feels a deep connection with their captors. Or maybe it was love, something difficult to explain.

Either way, it was quite nutty. Because as she stepped off the plane from Barcelona there was her dear family waiting for her at the gate. Her ugly grumpy husband had transformed into a Prince Charming, and her two evil children had turned into a prince and princess. They hopped in that old lemon of a minivan, which seemed more royal than a thousand chariots, and drove home to their magic castle. They didn’t live happily ever after, but they lived happily enough, something a fairy tale can’t do justice in describing. And it all was ok in the end.