I'm sure you all well remember that I'm a basket case in my own appealing way. Which reminds me of the sitcom from the '80's called Designing Women. Once Julia went to bat for a demented woman -- I don't remember the details -- but in the end Julia got in someone's face in a polite genteel sort of way by declaring, "Here in the South, we are puh-roud of our crazy people."
My family ganged up on me last night and I'm none too puh-roud of them for that. What they all need is a kick in the butt and a bit of experience living in the South and growing up with chores. Huh!, chores! What a lame word. I didn't have "chores" when I was a kid. I worked like a man starting at 4 years of age.
Last night I told the girls to make the sandwiches for lunches. You'd have thought I'd asked them to construct the Golden Gate Bridge. The (usually) fine husband and father of these darlings didn't even take up for me. I was none too happy. It wasn't one of our finer evenings.
It got worse. After they expressed their opinions about making sandwiches, the horror of horrors that that is, they tried to saddle me with guilt. "We never see you. You're always gone." They started naming all the commitments I've had this year, only one of which is still a weekly evening commitment. It's true I WAS over-committed but I quit every dang one of those commitments except Tuesday evening. No more Weight Watchers, no more dragon boating (I cried).
I'm sure as astute discerners of spirits, you've figured out that I'm just a little peeved. And as I've done in the past, I'll share some of this little family's humor. It always blesses my socks off to tell funny things my fam has done. I'm blessed indeed with a (usually) good-natured, fun-loving family.
In The Cinderella Story, a girl flick that my girls really like, the evil stepmother in her nasal voice says to the teenage stepdaughter, "You're not very smart and you're not very pretty. I'm glad we had this talk." That line has become a regular in our house. It's one of those little things we say to make sure everyone maintains a healthy self-esteem. Hannah particularly likes to say it, probably because she knows she'll get gales of laughter from me because she does the imitation so well. I might ask, "Hannah, does this blouse look ok?" to which she'll look up and down my long svelte body and reply in a most nasally voice, "Well, you're not very smart and you're not very pretty. I'm glad we had this talk."
Sounds warped, I know. But it makes us laugh. It makes me puh-roud.
Several weeks ago my poor Rachael got a short-lived little flu. She's usually healthy as a healthy horse so when I heard her puking I ran to the bathroom to find her hugging the toilet. Forgetting to check my humor at the door, I said, "Oh Lord, I hope this isn't that swine flu that's killin' everybody." Even in a puking state, Rachael started laughing and vomit dribbled out her nose. I know, sounds un-motherly and warped. But we laughed and that makes me puh-roud.
Deborah, the social butterfly, lives in fear of missing out on something. None of my children have had as many play dates and social gatherings as Deborah. And every time we pick her up from one of them she asks, "What did you all do while I was gone?" Sounds healthy enough, but what she really means is did I miss anything? Not one to let the opportunity pass to damage a child, I reply along these lines. "We had a party with ice cream and every candy you can imagine. Even pop, lots of pop. I hired a clown and he came with his donkey." As I'm saying my part, the rest of the family is adding theirs. Everyone belts out their input: We went skating. Kalyna called to see if you could sleep over, I told her no. We went for pizza. We laugh as we try to outdo each other's good time.
Ok, I THINK my family is back in my good graces. At least till I ask them to lift their pretty little fingers to help me out.
Hmm, maybe I spoke too soon.