MAMA’S NEW GROOVE
The Berenstain Bears and Mama’s Big Night Out
Some things are going to change around here
It had been a fruitful year for the Bear family, who lived in Bear Country in a tree house at the end of a sunny dirt road.
Brother and Sister Bear had stopped watching too much TV and were remembering their manners.
Papa had stopped eating so many Sugar Balls and Choco-Chums, and he finally managed to fit back into the overalls Mama Bear had mended for him more times than she could count.
Mama was very proud of the abundant harvest she collected from her vegetable patch. She had bushels of healthy rutabaga and zucchini to gift to her new neighbors The Pandas.
All was comfortable in the Bear Country Valley. It was a predictable place, a peaceful place.
Until the night Mama took some MDMA and had her first night out in 25 years.
You see, Mama Bear had started to feel the weight of the familial mental load more heavily on her shoulders that year. She was the ultimate matriarch, the fixer of all problems. But who was taking care of her?
Things took a turn when the Bear family went to the supermarket one day to buy some healthy staples for their pantry.
In the checkout line, Mama Bear ran into Miss Honeybear, Sister Bear’s kindergarten teacher. Few of the residents of Bear Country knew that Miss Honeybear and Mama Bear had been friends once.
You see, during their days at Bear Country Day School, Miss Honeybear had gotten to know a wilder side of Mama Bear that few others had seen.
But Mama Bear had tucked away this past like a quilt in her cupboard.
“Mama Bear, I’ve been watching you,” Miss Honeybear whispered as she placed her bag of oranges by the cashier.
“Working day in and day out, slaving away for that fine family of yours. You need a night out, Mama.”
“I don’t know in the slightest what you mean,” Mama Bear said, repositioning her bonnet and tightening her grip on her woven basket.
“Where’s the girl I used to know, Mama Bear? She’s still there. I know she is.”
“Come out with me tonight, Mama Bear! Tequila Treehouse, 9 PM. You deserve this.”
“What was Miss Honeybear saying, Mama?” asked Sister Bear as they loaded their red 1918 convertible with their groceries.
“Now Sister Bear, you know it isn’t polite to ask other bears about their personal business,” Mama scolded, avoiding the question completely.
Back at the treehouse, Mama Bear sat down with a cup of tea and her needlepoint. It was true — she had grown restless in this comfortable life in Bear Country. She was sick and tired of her full-length polka-dot muumuu and matching bonnet, of bearing the weight of moral advancement for her entire family.
She longed to put that 1918 convertible in drive and speed off across the valley without worrying about preventing bullying or teaching the importance of regular dental visits.
She would go tonight to the Tequila Treehouse.
That evening, the kids said their prayers and went to bed. And then Mama Bear slipped into a muumuu she hadn’t worn in years. This one was bright red. It fit snugly around her hips.
She mumbled to Papa Bear that she was headed to a women’s circle gathering for church, and he barely looked up from whittling his axe.
When she pushed aside the Tequila Treehouse door, she spotted Miss Honeybear right away from the back of the bar.
“I knew you would come, Mama Bear!” exclaimed Miss Honeybear, and they embraced.
“The first drink is on me, but here’s a little something to get you started,” Miss Honeybear insisted as she pushed a tiny wax paper pouch across the wooden table.
She ushered over the waiter and ordered them two special honey margaritas on the rocks.
Inside the wax paper was a circular pill with a smiley face imprint.
Mama bear blushed and looked around her. But she’d been up and down that sunny road a few times, and she knew what to do. She swallowed that pill and chased it down with a swig of her honey margarita without saying another word.
“I’m so happy the real you has come out to play, Mama Bear,” said Miss Honeybear.
The two bears laughed and laughed for some time, catching up on their lives as they downed their drinks and ordered another round.
Mama Bear felt good in her fur. The weight was lifting from her shoulders with each passing second.
Soon the lights on the ceiling started blurring together like an ocean wave, and she leaned back. Her paws traced each grain of wood in the bench. She imagined every drop of water and ray of sunlight that had nourished the tree to make this piece of wood, and she felt electrified by the vibrations of life all around her.
She closed her eyes, a wide grin on her face.
The next thing she knew, she was slow dancing with Miss Honeybear on the dance floor. She felt Miss Honeybear’s hands on her hips, and every hair of fur on her body felt alive.
Miss Honeybear grabbed her face with both hands, and their tongues touched. Never before had Mama Bear tasted a tongue as sweet as Miss Honeybear’s.
Before she knew it, she and Miss Honeybear were running barefoot through the grass of the valley. She and Miss Honeybear threw off their muumuus and started howling like wolves at the moon.
Then they were lying naked in the grass like starfish, gazing up at that big Bear Country sky.
“My, how many stars there are,” Mama Bear sighed.
She began to sob. Thick, healing tears streamed down her face. She imagined the moment she was born, and the moment her mother had been born, and her mother before that. And then she realized she had never felt as free as she did in this very moment, and she reached out for Miss Honeybear’s hand.
In the morning, it was Brother Bear who saw Mama Bear first.
He was pouring himself some Choco-Chums at the kitchen counter, when he spotted something in the garden.
When he came closer to the vegetable patch, he caught sight of Mama Bear. She had weaved herself a crown out of kohlrabi leaves, and her cheeks were streaked with red from the bright, red juice of wild raspberries. She was lying peacefully — naked — on a bed of cabbage and cauliflower.
“Oh hello, Brother Bear,” she said, brushing the dirt from her fur.
“Mama Bear, are you okay?!” He asked.
“Yes, Brother Bear. I am better than okay. But there are going to be some changes around here.”
“From now on, Papa Bear can mend his own damn pants.”
And with that, she repositioned her kohlrabi leaf crown and off she went to bathe naked in the crystal clear waters of Bear Country Lake.
More from Michelle A. Cmarik (mostly not Berenstain Bears stories)…
Follow Sweary Mommy for more “storybook characters tripping balls” stories.