We Don't Play Board Games

Okay, I admit it; sometimes I want to be the family I picture in my mind--the slightly crazy imaginative mind.  You know the kind of family that sits around the table playing board games, drinking

This sort of looks like poker...just sayin'

lemonade and singing kumaya--you know that sweet Doyle family that smiles at one another adoringly as we patiently wait our turn. That's in my mind; we don't play many board games, (we tried when we were first married, but I may have turned over the scrabble board when I started to lose...), but I do like games, sooooo--I sometimes play manipulative games....

Last night I walked into the den where Chris and William were sitting and asked, "Okay it's been two days.  What do you notice?"  Two days ago I got my haircut (after 10 weeks of not having it cut) and then yesterday I picked up new glasses.  I really thought that would be the dead giveaway since just that morning Chris had asked me what checks I had written and I reported on the one I had written, "For the eye doctor."

They looked back and forth at each other with that look that says, "We better get this right, but we are SOOOO being set up."  I could also see their minds racing realizing they were also now in competition with one another. William hesitantly asked, "Uh, did you get a hair cut?" (See he knows how to play this game--this may not be the first time we've played it.....)  "YES! Two days ago." William looked over at Chris like, "Yeah, dude I got this one.  Ante up ponyboy!"

"I also got new glasses today." I smugly announced.  Chris trying to regain his position of man of the house who knows how to deal with women (or at least the crazy woman he married) said, "Well you have to admit the hair isn't that different, and aren't those glasses just like the ones you've had before?"  "No," I responded, "These are tortoise shell."  "So were the others," he mistakenly shot back.  "No," I said, "Those were darker." Chris decided to pull out all the stops, get out of his comfortable chair and walk over to me acting like he was gazing at the new me.  It was starting to work--but oh no--"Yes those glasses are the same.  They look just like wayfarers which you had before."  (So I guess we should give him credit for knowing what I had before, but these were clearly not wayfarers....)

He looked closely and said, "You're right and that shape is perfect for you."  He confidently walked (read strutted) back to his chair looked over at William and said, "That was pretty good wasn't it?" William looked up at me probably thinking, "Seriously what sin have I committed or will I commit that made God give me to these two lunatics?"  He looked back at Chris and said, "Nah, I think you're still in the doghouse for at least a week."  (I think he had decided he was folding his hand recognizing there was no way he was even still in the game--now he was just relishing in Chris losing.)

Chris, determined to win, gave it one last try, "See the reason we didn't notice was because your inner beauty so outshines your outer beauty--which you of course have--but the inner beauty of your heart and soul blinds us to the outer beauty."  William's jaw dropped in total amazement-- Chris looked over at him and said, "Well?"  "Yeah," William responded clearly blown away (by hot air?), "That was good."

I smiled as I turned to go to bed knowing that really I had won....as I left I heard Chris say to William, "I've still got it.  Take lessons about the ladies from me."

Just another night with the O'Doyles--we don't play board games....




Disclaimer--we all laughed throughout--it was all in fun....

I Am the Piggly Wiggly Mama

The other day I was stomping around and pouting about my lack of a clean and orderly house--I wrote about it--I Want to Be.  What I didn't write about was--well read on.....

I started thinking about how I would have NEVER left my room any way except immaculate.  I was TERRIFIED of my mother.  That petite woman could look at me, her eyelids would flutter, and I would freeze shaking in place wanting to take cover but knowing any movement would be seen as disrespect..I have no idea what I thought she would do, but I knew I didn't want to find out! (I was so terrified of her that years later when I was in a store pushing a stroller with MY two children in it I froze when I forgot to say "yes m'am" when she asked me something.  I quickly corrected myself--yep she had that kind of power.)

As I entered the bathroom I thought, I had to clean my bathroom every morning before I left for school--full out--comet the sink, glass plus the mirror, wipe up the floor--every single morning. (In college I did this everyday when I lived in an apartment with my good friends.  About half way through the year I walked in on them laughing about it.  "Why didn't y'all tell me it was weird to do that?"  Their response, "Why would we do that?  You're cleaning our bathroom every day."  Well, I thought they were my good friends....)  My children's bathrooms have spit in the sink, things left out all over, mugs next to the tub, but there are no towels on the floor because they're in their bedrooms on the floor.

Back into their bedrooms I went stepping over the clothes on the floor (dirty? clean?  Who knows but I'm pretty sure they'll wind up in the hamper instead of being put away.)  The sheets and blankets were either crumpled on their beds or also on the floor--no army inspection for them.  (My friend Lynn is still traumatized by the time she was sitting on my bed when my mother walked in--we were not allowed to sit on our beds ever!!!)  There were dirty dishes on bedside tables--multiple dirty dishes--I humphed.  How many times have I told them not to eat in their rooms or at least if they do to please bring them down?  Clearly not enough times...

In my displeasure I sent them texts hoping the texts would send terror coarsing through their bodies. Based on their responses--I didn't think they did.  (Based on the fact the same towels and dishes were still there two days later, I'm sure they didn't.)









The next morning, (the morning after my stomping and pouting) I walked into the kitchen after the children left for school.  OH NO!!! My piggly wiggly mug was sitting on the counter BROKEN!!  Who had done that?!?!?! (Caroline was safe; she was still upstairs sick in bed.) I sent the boys a text...



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That evening all three were in the kitchen--I walked in; Boss froze and tried to hide the peanut butter jar behind his back. "Mama, I'm sorry...I couldn't find the other peanut butter.  I just took one scoop.  I'm really sorry."  (I have been known to hide piggly wiggly peanut butter in my room....I'm not good at sharing.) Just then Caroline looked down, "Who broke Mama's piggly wiggly mug?"  Me, "William did."  Caroline looked over at William silently willing him to make a run for it, "Are you crazy?!?!?! You admitted it?!?!?!"  William, "Not until I was gone."
(Who said that boy wasn't smart?) All three looked back at me and remained frozen in place, shaking but not daring to make a move....

I smiled; finally--finally I found a way to terrorize my children.  And then I started to laugh as I thought about the absurdity of the situation.  This is how I terrorize my children--not over neurotic housecleaning--over Piggly Wiggly merchandise, and then I thought, I wouldn't want it any other way.  This is Growing Up Doyle at its finest--Growing Up Doyle with a Piggly Wiggly Mama (in a house that could be mistaken for a pig's sty!)

When You Think About Marriage--A Letter to the O'Doyles

Dear O'Doyles,

I was walking by myself on the beach yesterday and started thinking--maybe it's because I won't have you all for Easter.  Maybe it's because we let Caroline go to New York with her friend (no you may

not have my debit card number--good try!) and Boss go to the beach with his girlfriend.  Seriously, what were we thinking?  Daddy even said, "I don't know about this."  I said, "My parents always let me bring my boyfriend to the beach."  To which he replied, "Well clearly there's something wrong with them."  Then I reminded him he also took his girlfriend to the beach--which is an hysterical story but one I can't tell.  I can bring home a stray dog, run up credit card bills and he won't divorce me, but I'm pretty sure if I made that story public I'd be served by Monday morning----anyway, y'all aren't all here, my heart hurts, but I know it's normal and you're growing up.

So I was walking and I remembered sitting at the dinner table one night in Lynchburg when Daddy was out of town.  Babah was with us.  SK was in 3rd grade and she asked, "Mama, would you rather me marry someone of a different race or a different religion?"  I thought to myself, "I'd rather have another glass of wine--"  She added, "And you have to choose one."  (She knew I was going to try to weasel out...)  Four pairs of eyes were intently looking at me waiting for me to impart my wisdom (that was back when y'all thought I knew everything), I swallowed hard and answered as honestly as I could. Daddy and I have always promised we'd answer any question you asked as honestly as we could--(there were some that were real doozies--remember William and the sex ones?)  "Well, first I want you to marry someone you love, but here's the thing--our faith has seen Daddy and I through a lot. Without our shared faith I don't know how we would have gotten through some of the medical issues we've had, the moves (I didn't add financial strain--you were too young, but I'll add that now). I always knew Daddy prayed about things and he knew I did.  We knew we each made decisions based on a faith we shared, so I guess I have to choose religion."

Y'all now know it's WAAAAAY more complicated than that, but I still believe our shared faith has seen us through and continues to see us through, but yesterday as I was walking I thought I need to add some more to my answer.  (I am not saying I want you to get married anytime soon despite the fact I send SK pictures of reception sites....) Here's what I want to add.  Marry someone who adores you--marry someone you adore; marry someone who makes you want to be as good of a person as they already believe you are, and make sure you marry someone who shares your priorities for life whatever they are. For us it's been education and family. You know the sacrifices we make for your education--Daddy in particular.  He's worked hard and gone without for himself.  I'm not saying it to make you feel guilty--y'all have always been appreciative, I'm just telling you that if we didn't agree--well we'd need that faith for sure because the financial strain would be--let's not think about it.

And family--last week Daddy knew I needed to see my sister, so regardless of the fact he'd been traveling nonstop for weeks, he never said a word.  (That is not to say you're marriages don't have to come first, and we try to make ours a priority) But what I really thought about yesterday was Daddy

driving to C'ville to get SK.  Some people are probably surprised that he is driving 30 hours over a 72 hour period so SK can be here at the beach with us for Easter.  I'm not surprised in the slightest.  It matters--it matters to me and it matters to Daddy.

I love you all to the moon and back and back and back and back, and y'all love each other just as fiercely (Sibling Love), but one day you may meet someone who makes your heart stop, someone who completes you in a way we never could.  I look forward to meeting those people, to loving those people, to welcoming those people into our family (they have no idea what they're getting into....and you know if Caroline doesn't like them she'll run them off within a week). So now my answer to SK's question all those years ago is more complete.

Happy Easter--I love you,
Mama