When she's in love with another woman, what do you do?

Someone has been sleeping in my bed, and she isn’t 10-years-old or in search of porridge and child-sized rocking chairs.

No but she has been eating my tiramisu, sleeping in my good sheets and flopping on my cushy couch.

My husband is beside himself. He doesn’t know what to do. He never really thought I’d act this way-- jealous of the woman usurping my place.

Quite frankly, I’m shocked that he was so clueless. I am the queen bee or I was until she arrived and started inching in on my territory.

My husband is innocent of any sort of treasonous activity. He has yet to bring a dog into my house or into my garden-- as for another woman, he knows one is expensive enough and a second one would make him pay for years, so I know I am quite safe.

My mother, on the other hand, has no loyalty.

She has taken up with another woman-- a surrogate daughter.

Yes, it is tragic. I’ve been gone far too long, and while I am content with “waiting for her,” she is no longer content with waiting until the day she retires and we can be reunited once more. Her Visa “frequent flyer” miles aren’t adding up fast enough. She’s lost all hope and has found herself someone else to shop with.

I was alright-- well sort of alright-- with the shopping.

But they got too cozy and started going to tea rooms for lunch-- the same tea rooms we used to frequent.

Then, they baked Christmas cookies together.

For 33 years, I have either baked those darn cookies with her or at least been on the phone with her while she stirred the batter. But this year, someone else was sifting the flour and that someone else is called Stephanie.

I know, I sound petty. I should be happy my mother has found someone so nice to hang out with, to shop with, to lunch with, to gossip with and to complain with.

Stephanie is cute, funny and has an adorable little boy. I’d probably hang out with her if I still lived in Texas. We’d be buddies and I’d probably invite her for cookie day. But this is different because while they are out laughing and burning up their Visa cards, I am the crazy woman shopping by herself and discussing options with the poor sales ladies. I’m the woman those poor clerks fear the most. I actually want their help-- heck I long for their help, an adult to talk with on the day after Thanksgiving.

And so, after a sad lunch alone and a laugh-less five-hour shopping spree, I get to listen to the adventures of Patricia and Stephanie.

“And she is staying in your room,” my mother said ever so starkly. “Her husband is out hunting and I didn’t want her to be all alone.”

“My husband is gone four days a week,” I said. “I’m alone all the time. He goes on hunting trips, but --- she’s in my bed.”

“Yes, and we’re watching TV in my room,” she said.

Now my dear readers, only my daughters and I are family enough to flop on my mom’s feather bed and watch TV (if any of you are thinking bad thoughts, release those thoughts immediately because it is all innocent).

And the digging gets deeper.

“We must have baked 20 dozen cookies today,” she said.

“I have to go,” I said. I was on the verge of tears and didn’t want to be so pathetic as to cry on the phone.

“Oh, by the way, could you look online for the Pirates of the Caribbean Costco set?” my mom said. “My computer isn’t working and I wanted to get it for **** (Stephanie’s son). You‘ve got my credit card number.”

And so I did my mother’s Christmas shopping for surrogate daughter and her little boy too.

Perhaps, my mother thinks I am funny. I try to laugh it off, but the truth is I’d really like a surrogate mother of my own, but I never looked for one-- because I didn’t want to hurt my mother.

I guess, in the end, I was wrong to be so loyal. Perhaps, I too will one day move on. My daughters are growing up , and one day soon, I am sure my own mother will feel as I do today -- as no doubt, my babes and I will have many adventures of our own.