By Scott Bradfield
Caitlin Fischer-McQueen is the richest, trendiest, and most enlightened mom in all of San Luis Obispo. She wears Givenchy when she drops her adorable children off at daycare; she wears Givenchy when she picks her adorable kids up from daycare; and she wears Givenchy when she’s driving them around town in their Hummer. Her nannies are all refugees from UN-sanctioned war zones, and when they push her adorable children around town in their BMW-designed pushchairs, Caitlin devotedly advises everyone on the proper deployment of organic full-fruit juice boxes, safest tactical formations when crossing busy intersections, and which educational materials should be unpacked every time they sit down for lunch at one of the approved open-air kitchens in town, such as Granny Granola on Main Street or Flax ‘n’ Wrap on Garden. Caitlin’s adorable children are all under five years old and precocious as hell—two long-limbed, blond girls and one olive-skinned boy—and Caitlin credits her success as a mom to her two husbands: Roy Blender, a software executive in San Jose, and another coincidentally-named Roy Blender, who is a top-tier film executive in Culver City. “I love them both, and they love me. And we all love our adoring and adorable children,” Caitlin has confessed on more than one occasion—usually to anyone who makes the mistake of sitting next to her at an open-air restaurant while her nannies are feeding the children. “But still, I’m not happy. My creative endeavors suffer from a lack of creativity, and I blame it on all these distractions. What worries me most is that if I don’t feel fulfilled creatively, I’ll eventually take it out on my kids. That wouldn’t be fair to them, and it wouldn’t be fair to me. It’s so hard having it all—don’t you think? You spend your life thinking it’ll be easy, but it never is.”
Recently, however, Caitlin has found just enough creative “me-time” to develop a plan. According to her imperfect understanding of quantum physics (acquired during a two-day weekend seminar at The Whole Earth University of Arts and Sciences in Rancho El Chorro), if you put a cat in a sealed box with a randomly-activated assassination device, then the cat is somehow both alive and dead simultaneously. Caitlin hasn’t quite worked out the math yet (her expertise stops somewhere just short of signing the tax returns prepared each year by her lawyer, Sideways Charlie), but this Schrödinger paradox deal has turned out to be exactly what she needed.
On Friday, Caitlin sealed her three children and their respective nannies into a large steel shipping crate, loaded the crate onto the back of a pick-up, and now doesn’t go anywhere without them. She takes them to her art classes at the Pastel Society. She takes them to her creative writing workshops at the Adult Ed School and to her Esalen therapy sessions in Big Sur. She has even managed to park them outside the Avila Hot Springs, where she enjoys weekly mud-facials. According to quantum physics (or at least Caitlin’s imperfect understanding of such), ever since sealing her kids and their nannies into a steel crate, two universes exist. In one universe (the OTHER one), Caitlin is an awful mom who smothered her kids alive (not to mention their nannies). But in another universe (THIS one), her children reside safely and eternally protected by their cold, steel chamber of love, escorted back and forth across the county by a devoted mother, and remain just as vibrant, precocious, and adorable inside the steel crate as they once were outside it. Next week, there’s an advanced course in Quantum Physics in Rancho El Chorro, and if it can be fitted around her seminar in French sauces at UCLA, Caitlin is almost certainly going to take it.