A friend asked me yesterday about our "traditions" for Christmas. I warned her--starting traditions create tradition monsters; I should know--I have four. One year I gave them robes instead of pajamas on Christmas Eve. You seriously would have thought I had personally ruined Christmas for the entire world.....,
Last night at dinner we began talking about Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas brunch. The children were talking over each other about what their favorite part was. Well everyone except Caroline who was trying to decide if she should "Swing" or "swung". Shawn was paying attention to her and falling out of his chair laughing. Caroline, "Why is it so funny?" Shawn whispered to me, "I don't think she knows what that could mean." Clearly--and I'm a little disturbed that my exchange student does. Caroline changed the subject and said, "I was so happy today. Christopher came into the gym and announced to everyone that I'm a real baller." My mind was not jumping as quickly as others apparently because I was just about to fuss at Christopher for calling her inappropriate names especially at school. "Yeah," he said, "She has practice shoes and game shoes. She's the real basketball deal." Chris Sr., "Wait, we bought you TWO pairs of basketball shoes?" Caroline, "Yeah I asked you for one and Mama for one." (Perhaps we should communicate better--I'll add that to my list of topics to talk to my therapist about) but back to the meal....
I decided to try to bring the conversation back into some sort of normalcy (yeah right) and more importantly inclusivity. So I turned to Shawn and said, "This is what we have for our meals. Is there something special your family has for Christmas dinner? We could add that." Shawn smiled at me (see some people understand me) and said, "No. We have dinner on Christmas but nothing particularly special." Boss began laughing hysterically, "Shawn just tell her. Mama he doesn't have anything special for Christmas dinner because HE'S NOT CHRISTIAN HE'S KOREAN!" I may have turned as red as Caroline's neck from The Bark Collar (yes that happened last night too), but my loving husband tried to save my dignity. "Boss, there are Christians in Korea aren't there Shawn?" Shawn, "Yes, we have churches everywhere." Boss not to be deterred from making certain I understood my mistake, "Yeah but Shawn's not one of them!!!!" Me, "But he told me (why did I start referring to him in the third person when he was sitting right next to me?) in middle school they tried to convert him." Shawn turned to me with a huge smile on his face, "Yeah, but it didn't work." Welcome to the family Shawn you have officially become part of us--initiation in our house is openly laughing at the Mama.
Sweet (?) William changes the subject again, "These advent candles suck. (I HATE THAT WORD!!!) They are burning down so fast. What are we going to do in a few weeks?" I responded, "It will be fine." Caroline, "We'll just have to replace one and start advent all over. That will suck" (That word again!!!) "Seriously Caroline?" I interjected, "We do this every year. Why are you acting like you don't know how this works?" William, "What happens if we light them all tonight? Or what if I light the pink one tomorrow night?" Boss, "You'll probably be damned to hell." Caroline, "Yeah you'll probably kill Jesus--hey wait Jesus already got dead." GOT DEAD?!?!?!! Who are you? They began deciding who was being damned talking over one another so I'm not sure they heard me say, "But he rose again, remember oh children of mine who have gone to church almost EVERY Sunday of their lives??!?" It's a good think I'm going to FORMA (A grassroots association of members of The Episcopal Church and kindred individuals and institutions, Forma supports, networks, advocates for, resources, and celebrates Christian formation leaders in their Christian formation ministries) in January. Christian educators have been saying our Christian formation programs aren't working. I really wish my children weren't poster children for that belief!!!
"I think we should clear our plates. Ya'll have studying to do." "Yeah," said William, "And you've ruined Christmas already because we don't have our chocolate advent calendars yet." Fair warning--do not start traditions....
02 December 2014
01 December 2014
Bark Collars Work on People--Caroline proved it.
It's been a crazy evening. I worked late and had not done half of what I wanted at home. I was the last to walk in the door--"Ya'll get a snack, dinner will be at least an hour." I knew that because my neurosis kicked in on the drive home; I wanted to get laundry going; I needed to wrap a Christmas gift, and dinner involved a lot of chopping and sauteing. "Caroline," I asked, "Can you wrap this present for Daddy to take to Jonathan?" "No. I've got a paper due. But why are you using a glue stick?" Caroline helpfully asked. "Because I have no tape." I answered thinking I should be congratulated for my innovative thinking, but alas that wasn't to be.
Chris left to take his Godson his Christmas present wrapped with a glue stick. I began to saute dinner and Boss worked on his homework in the dining room declaring, "Jonathan would rather have comic books than Jesus books." Just a regular night at the Doyle's.
I was talking to SK when Caroline came down. She was, well, she was Caroline. I finally said, "I've got to go. Daddy just got home and I've got to get dinner on the table, and Caroline is being Caroline." Chris came in and said, "He loved it but would have preferred a race car--just kidding." And in that moment Caroline removed the bark collar from Bobby. "Do you think this really hurts?" "Yes," I responded, "That's why he doesn't bark when it's on." Caroline, "I don't think it really does." And with that, she stretched it around her neck and let out a loud bark. "OWWWW! This really does work." Chris, "Seriously, you thought it wouldn't?" Caroline, "Well last time I did it, it didn't hurt like this. I think I have a red mark." Boss, "You do have a red mark." Me interrupting, "Wait a minute, last time you did it?" Caroline, "Yeah, one time I did it when SK was home. It didn't hurt that much." Me, "I can't believe you have a red mark. How are you going to explain that tomorrow?" Caroline clearly no longer interested in this conversation, "Have you seen my crab face?" She contorted her face into, who knows what--"Ouch that hurts where the bark collar got me."
Just another night at the Doyle's.....
Chris left to take his Godson his Christmas present wrapped with a glue stick. I began to saute dinner and Boss worked on his homework in the dining room declaring, "Jonathan would rather have comic books than Jesus books." Just a regular night at the Doyle's.
I was talking to SK when Caroline came down. She was, well, she was Caroline. I finally said, "I've got to go. Daddy just got home and I've got to get dinner on the table, and Caroline is being Caroline." Chris came in and said, "He loved it but would have preferred a race car--just kidding." And in that moment Caroline removed the bark collar from Bobby. "Do you think this really hurts?" "Yes," I responded, "That's why he doesn't bark when it's on." Caroline, "I don't think it really does." And with that, she stretched it around her neck and let out a loud bark. "OWWWW! This really does work." Chris, "Seriously, you thought it wouldn't?" Caroline, "Well last time I did it, it didn't hurt like this. I think I have a red mark." Boss, "You do have a red mark." Me interrupting, "Wait a minute, last time you did it?" Caroline, "Yeah, one time I did it when SK was home. It didn't hurt that much." Me, "I can't believe you have a red mark. How are you going to explain that tomorrow?" Caroline clearly no longer interested in this conversation, "Have you seen my crab face?" She contorted her face into, who knows what--"Ouch that hurts where the bark collar got me."
Just another night at the Doyle's.....
22 November 2014
Only a Doyle Handyman
When we were first married, Chris and I (okay Chris, Uncle Mike, Aunt Anne and I--giving credit where credit is due) "redid" an old house. We painted every room, stripped and rehung wall paper, and Chris refinished the hardwood floors. Now I know most people finish something like that and are energized and proud. Chris turned to me and said, "Never again. If we can't afford to have someone do it, it's not going to get done." And so every time we move we search out doctors, hair stylists, and a handyman. Ray is our Louisville handyman.
Several weeks ago we made a list and decided it was time to call Ray. I called and left a message; no answer. A few days later I called again and left a message; no return call. I called a third time and left a message. I couldn't understand why he wasn't calling us back. He liked us I thought. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that we double paid him since we didn't communicate on who would write the check--perhaps we should add a finance person and mediator or communication specialist to our list of people to find when we move. Anyway, he didn't call back and I decided that he was either dead (he's not young) and I was harassing a grieving family or he was going to have me arrested for stalking because he wasn't going to call back. (I clearly wasn't working on home improvement projects so I had plenty of time to let my mind create.) I was about to go on a search for a new handyman when surprise Ray called.
He was sorry he hadn't called back sooner, but his mother had died (I knew there had to be death somewhere in there) and he was named executor but he didn't know he was executor and then they had to clean out the house...15 minutes into the call I finally was able to break into the story and say, "Can you help us out?" "Oh yeah," he replied obviously reconnecting with the idea that I was his client not his therapist. "I'll be over sometime next week." I didn't press him for a specific time and date, when you're not handy you work your schedule around the handyman. Plus, I was a tad bit afraid he would give me a 20 minute detailed list of what he would be doing. If I think someone talks alot....well you know they do.
Ray finally came over to look at the projects. Sure I can do those he told me AFTER he retold me the story of his mother's death complete with how he and his five siblings divided up the furniture. I know exactly who got what and what they're doing with it, why they didn't choose other pieces and the house has been sold. He also told me about the kitchen redo he did for his wife. "Took me 8 years, but I got it done." He said, "I'll be back sometime next week." Again I wasn't going to press, on top of that, I was too busy praying these projects wouldn't take 8 years....
Thursday Ray showed up. I was working from home. I hadn't had a day off in awhile plus it was freaking cold and I had a roaring fire. (I burned 28 pieces of wood that day--another weirdness about me, I count the wood I burn. I definitely keep my therapist in business.) I was working on a sermon listening to Gregorian advent chant in the back ground. (It was in Latin) I was trying to concentrate and Ray was talking and talking and talking. (I know some of ya'll are so happy and just want to say,'Paybacks are hell') Finally there was a pause and glorious silence. And then Ray started singing!!!! Rather he started chanting, PERFECTLY AND IN LATIN!! He's scrapping my ceiling and chanting Gregorian chant. I really didn't want him to talk anymore but I had to ask, "Ray, are you chanting?" "Oh yeah," he responded, "I was in catholic seminary for 5 1/2 years but then I decided I'd rather drop out, become a painter and get married. Now that's a story!" I didn't get to hear that story--he had to go outside for the gutter project...I breathed a sigh of relief.
Four hours later Ray announced, "Well I'm about finished for today. I'll have to come back tomorrow to put another layer on the ceiling." he told me and then continued to explain how he'd learned all these trades. 37 minutes later he left. I was beginning to think he was moving in and I'd have to introduce the children to their new Uncle Ray. Further he charges us by the hour; I wonder if I'm getting charged for entertainment as well...
Friday Ray called to say he was on his way. I was heading home from the gym and told him I'd meet him there. I arrived and Ray was already in the house. "I went ahead and let the dogs out," Ray informed me as I walked into the house. "I can't remember where you keep the treats." (He really might be moving in....) We stood in the middle of the living room as he detailed what he had done after he left my (our) house yesterday. He pulled out his phone and began to show me pictures of his grandchildren--I tried to keep it straight--we might all become family. He put his phone away and as he continued to talk he began to undue his belt and unzip his pants. "WHOA!" I screamed turning my back to him. He began to laugh, "Did you think I was taking my pants off?" That's exactly what I thought and think. He kept laughing as he said, "I am but I have shorts on underneath.Remember I went to seminary." Seriously a warning would have been helpful PLUS you dropped out of seminary!!! He finished the second layer and called me back into the living room. Ray began to explain the next step as he started to redress. Even knowing what's going on, I have to say it's a bit unnerving to talk to a man in your living room who is pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt.....
"I'll be back tomorrow to put another coat on," he told me, "I'm going home now to work on one of my computers. I had to replace the hard drive last night. I have seven computers. I built my first computer 2 years ago. If you aren't here, I'll just come on in." I remained silent. First I was amazed--this man also builds computers? A Gregorian chanting, story telling, handyman, computer guru. Only a Doyle handyman. Also, while it's wrong; I know it's wrong, so very wrong, but I silently gave thanks for the early morning board meeting followed by a funeral and two basketball games. He may meet his match, Caroline will be here...
Several weeks ago we made a list and decided it was time to call Ray. I called and left a message; no answer. A few days later I called again and left a message; no return call. I called a third time and left a message. I couldn't understand why he wasn't calling us back. He liked us I thought. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that we double paid him since we didn't communicate on who would write the check--perhaps we should add a finance person and mediator or communication specialist to our list of people to find when we move. Anyway, he didn't call back and I decided that he was either dead (he's not young) and I was harassing a grieving family or he was going to have me arrested for stalking because he wasn't going to call back. (I clearly wasn't working on home improvement projects so I had plenty of time to let my mind create.) I was about to go on a search for a new handyman when surprise Ray called.
He was sorry he hadn't called back sooner, but his mother had died (I knew there had to be death somewhere in there) and he was named executor but he didn't know he was executor and then they had to clean out the house...15 minutes into the call I finally was able to break into the story and say, "Can you help us out?" "Oh yeah," he replied obviously reconnecting with the idea that I was his client not his therapist. "I'll be over sometime next week." I didn't press him for a specific time and date, when you're not handy you work your schedule around the handyman. Plus, I was a tad bit afraid he would give me a 20 minute detailed list of what he would be doing. If I think someone talks alot....well you know they do.
Ray finally came over to look at the projects. Sure I can do those he told me AFTER he retold me the story of his mother's death complete with how he and his five siblings divided up the furniture. I know exactly who got what and what they're doing with it, why they didn't choose other pieces and the house has been sold. He also told me about the kitchen redo he did for his wife. "Took me 8 years, but I got it done." He said, "I'll be back sometime next week." Again I wasn't going to press, on top of that, I was too busy praying these projects wouldn't take 8 years....
Thursday Ray showed up. I was working from home. I hadn't had a day off in awhile plus it was freaking cold and I had a roaring fire. (I burned 28 pieces of wood that day--another weirdness about me, I count the wood I burn. I definitely keep my therapist in business.) I was working on a sermon listening to Gregorian advent chant in the back ground. (It was in Latin) I was trying to concentrate and Ray was talking and talking and talking. (I know some of ya'll are so happy and just want to say,'Paybacks are hell') Finally there was a pause and glorious silence. And then Ray started singing!!!! Rather he started chanting, PERFECTLY AND IN LATIN!! He's scrapping my ceiling and chanting Gregorian chant. I really didn't want him to talk anymore but I had to ask, "Ray, are you chanting?" "Oh yeah," he responded, "I was in catholic seminary for 5 1/2 years but then I decided I'd rather drop out, become a painter and get married. Now that's a story!" I didn't get to hear that story--he had to go outside for the gutter project...I breathed a sigh of relief.
Four hours later Ray announced, "Well I'm about finished for today. I'll have to come back tomorrow to put another layer on the ceiling." he told me and then continued to explain how he'd learned all these trades. 37 minutes later he left. I was beginning to think he was moving in and I'd have to introduce the children to their new Uncle Ray. Further he charges us by the hour; I wonder if I'm getting charged for entertainment as well...
Friday Ray called to say he was on his way. I was heading home from the gym and told him I'd meet him there. I arrived and Ray was already in the house. "I went ahead and let the dogs out," Ray informed me as I walked into the house. "I can't remember where you keep the treats." (He really might be moving in....) We stood in the middle of the living room as he detailed what he had done after he left my (our) house yesterday. He pulled out his phone and began to show me pictures of his grandchildren--I tried to keep it straight--we might all become family. He put his phone away and as he continued to talk he began to undue his belt and unzip his pants. "WHOA!" I screamed turning my back to him. He began to laugh, "Did you think I was taking my pants off?" That's exactly what I thought and think. He kept laughing as he said, "I am but I have shorts on underneath.Remember I went to seminary." Seriously a warning would have been helpful PLUS you dropped out of seminary!!! He finished the second layer and called me back into the living room. Ray began to explain the next step as he started to redress. Even knowing what's going on, I have to say it's a bit unnerving to talk to a man in your living room who is pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt.....
"I'll be back tomorrow to put another coat on," he told me, "I'm going home now to work on one of my computers. I had to replace the hard drive last night. I have seven computers. I built my first computer 2 years ago. If you aren't here, I'll just come on in." I remained silent. First I was amazed--this man also builds computers? A Gregorian chanting, story telling, handyman, computer guru. Only a Doyle handyman. Also, while it's wrong; I know it's wrong, so very wrong, but I silently gave thanks for the early morning board meeting followed by a funeral and two basketball games. He may meet his match, Caroline will be here...
12 November 2014
Society Hell
Anyone with teenagers knows having a gourmet family dinner before 9 pm with the WHOLE family together is a very rare occasion, so I take what I can when I can. I love to cook and to set the table with themed china and linens, and I love having the whole family around the table without feeling rushed. Yesterday I didn't have to work so I got to do some of that. I prepared a semi elaborate salmon set the table with the leaf place mats and called the boys to dinner (at 7:30 I said I take what I can--SK is clearly not traveling from UVA for dinner and Caroline was at play practice.)
We sat down and began to eat and to have typical Doyle conversation (read conversation that borders on if not crosses over inappropriate and conversation that jumps faster than the Easter bunny)--Boss, "We stopped at the video store today so I could pick up William's new video game. I do that for him so much they don't even card me anymore. That's not the place I don't want to be carded." My head whipped around--Boss, "Wait it's not what you think." Before I could delve into that conversation, William, "Yeah there was this weird kid there...." Chris interrupted, "What a weird kid at a video store?" (Yes we do stereotype--but then our weird kids were there today too.) William, "Us weird kids call this time of year, Broketober because all the new games come out." Me, "Remember Christmas is coming up." William,, "Yeah that's why I need you to find me jobs or give me some money" Chris, "Boss can you pass me a piece of salmon?" Boss reached across William and picked up a piece of salmon WITH HIS HANDS!!!! "Boss!" I shrieked. "What? I was trying to be polite and not interrupt the flow of the conversation by asking William to pass the platter." He's so considerate. "You're killing me or at least aging me quickly." Boss, "Yeah, but I'll put you in a good home." "I'd like to go to Merrilee please." Boss, "That's not happening--that's too expensive." Chris, "At least you get to go to a home; he told me he's just putting me out." Boss, "Yeah, he'll figure something out--I'll make sure you have a place to live." I didn't know whether to add--thanks for taking care of me but not your father or to be amazed they had clearly had this conversation before--and both remembered it....
We sat down and began to eat and to have typical Doyle conversation (read conversation that borders on if not crosses over inappropriate and conversation that jumps faster than the Easter bunny)--Boss, "We stopped at the video store today so I could pick up William's new video game. I do that for him so much they don't even card me anymore. That's not the place I don't want to be carded." My head whipped around--Boss, "Wait it's not what you think." Before I could delve into that conversation, William, "Yeah there was this weird kid there...." Chris interrupted, "What a weird kid at a video store?" (Yes we do stereotype--but then our weird kids were there today too.) William, "Us weird kids call this time of year, Broketober because all the new games come out." Me, "Remember Christmas is coming up." William,, "Yeah that's why I need you to find me jobs or give me some money" Chris, "Boss can you pass me a piece of salmon?" Boss reached across William and picked up a piece of salmon WITH HIS HANDS!!!! "Boss!" I shrieked. "What? I was trying to be polite and not interrupt the flow of the conversation by asking William to pass the platter." He's so considerate. "You're killing me or at least aging me quickly." Boss, "Yeah, but I'll put you in a good home." "I'd like to go to Merrilee please." Boss, "That's not happening--that's too expensive." Chris, "At least you get to go to a home; he told me he's just putting me out." Boss, "Yeah, he'll figure something out--I'll make sure you have a place to live." I didn't know whether to add--thanks for taking care of me but not your father or to be amazed they had clearly had this conversation before--and both remembered it....
William got up and poured himself a glass of milk WITHOUT asking anyone else. Boss already had water, but Shawn had nothing--something I'm sure he would eventually be thankful for. As he sat back down he placed his glass to the left of his plate. Me, "Sweetheart, the glass goes on the right side." Boss, "This isn't the middle ages Mama. Don't move it William." Me, "I know it's not the middle ages, but it's just the proper way to set a table. Ya'll know that." "Well," he continued, "Mine is in the middle of the place mat. I like it there. I'm pretty much I'm in the center and William leans left." Seriously, he's bringing politics into this?!?!? "Plus, the place mats aren't big and you don't want the glasses on the table." Me attempting to bring this conversation back into some sort of normalcy, "Well it's still the proper way." Boss, "Well I guess I'm going to society hell since mine is in the middle and I'm not moving it. What about you William?" William, "I guess I'm going two levels below society hell because mine is to the left." Shawn was trying not to fall out of his chair laughing not completely certain whether I was going to lose it. I decided to move on...
"I'll clean up Chris if you'll go get the poster board and bag of candy for Caroline." Chris took that deal. Boss began writing a paper as I was cleaning up. "Hey Mama, what's another name for Jesus?" I started giving him possibilities. "No Mama, I need one that uses lots of words--I've got to get to 1000 words tonight." So, I continued only to be interrupted again, "What do you know? I'll figure it out." Clearly I don't know how to teach table manners....
Chris got home and Boss asked, "What kind of candy did you get?" Chris, "Snickers." Boss, "Snickers? Are you kidding me? No one likes snickers and besides we go to private school where everyone has those rich people peanut allergies. You should have bought reeces." Caroline walked in at that point which saved me from trying to deal with ANY of Boss' reasoning. Caroline, "What you got snickers?!?!?! No one likes snickers, you should have bought reeces." Chris moved to the kitchen to pour a bourbon--I should have joined him. Caroline, "Can you take me to Bowling Green on Sunday?" Boss, "I'm going to the UK basketball game so I can't." Caroline, "What the hell? Are you turning into a Cats fan? We HATE UK. I want to go to Bowling Green." (When did my children decide they could say 'hell' all the time?) Boss began to explain why he was going but then stopped to say, "Take a greyhound." Back to the whole greyhound conversation from last month. I jumped in, "She is NOT taking the greyhound." Caroline, "I could just take a taxi." Boss, "Are you an idiot? What the hell? (That word again) Speaking of which, where do you put your glass at the table? Mama says we're going to society hell." Caroline, "Please someone take me to Bowling Green...wait, Mama, you told the boys to go to hell?'
I joined Chris.
18 October 2014
Gripping and Groping
There were five of us in the car heading to fall gathering at All Saints. The babies, a shy seventh grader, and a young man who was a Karen refugee--sweet and kind. Honestly I don't know what people are thinking when they ask me to take their children to All Saints. An hour and a half in the car with our family? Seriously?!?!?! Do you know who we are? And yesterday was worse because the traffic was horrible and Caroline's energy was high....
In between spurts of "Why is the traffic so bad?' William, "It's rush hour." Caroline, "Well no one seems to be rushing." and "How much longer will there be traffic?' I have no idea I'm not psychic, Our guests were napping and Caroline was having a monologue of her own most of what I was ignoring. Will I ever learn? "Mama, Mama, I'm asking you a question, " Caroline pushed on my seat and said, "Aren't you listening to me?" Well I think it most have been obvious I wasn't, so I didn't answer. She continued without missing a beat, "Do you know ___________?" I tried to get context as she blurted out, "You know the tall nerdy kid who's totally weird?" Oh yeah, well that certainly narrows it down oh 5'10 totally weird child of mine. I simply responded, "I know who he is." "Well, " Caroline informed me, "Maria doesn't like him because he groped her." "WHAT?!?!?!?" Now she had my full attention as I was trying not to have an accident as I contorted my body to look at her while simultaneously rehearsing i my mind a conversation with Maria's mother. "You know, last week when she went to school with me." I tried to remain calm, "He groped her and you are just now telling me? Did you tell anyone?" Caroline, "Why would I do that?" "Caroline," I tried to calmly continue, "Please tell me exactly what happened." Caroline, "It wasn't that big of a deal. He just walked up to her and groped her arm really tightly." William, sitting in the front seat, is looking at me with a "she's an idiot" look.
My heart rate began to drop and I said, "Caroline, that is called gripping her arm. You can't go around and say someone groped someone. That's going to really get someone in trouble." (I totally missed the point that he also should not have been gripping her arm tightly but that's a conversation for another day." "Why not?" Caroline truly innocently asked. "Because," I said, "That is not what people think of when they hear the word groping. And if you said that at school he would get called in and be in some really big trouble before it got sorted out." "Well, what does groping mean?" she asked. William yanked off his ear phones and said, "PLEASE do not tell her!!!!" "Yes, tell me," she hollered from the back seat. "Mama please no," William begged. "William I have to explain it. She can't say things she doesn't understand." I said as I looked in the rear view mirror to make certain our guests were still napping. "Caroline, groping is usually the term used when someone grabs your breasts or bottom, so when you say someone has groped someone else that is what most people think you're talking about." William buried his head in his hands just at the time I realized our guests are also possums. As they were holding their sides and silently laughing, Caroline finished the conversation with, "I still like the word grope better than grip." "Caroline, just because you like a word better doesn't mean you can use it inappropriately." "Who's going to stop me?" Caroline asked, "The groping police."
We arrived at All Saints and as I got out of the car I saw our good friend and family favorite John MacLean, "Just so you know, Caroline was in rare form (or really just normal form) so the other two...." I began to say, but really how do you explain or even know what the other two might need? Instead I finished with, "Good luck. Have a great weekend."
In between spurts of "Why is the traffic so bad?' William, "It's rush hour." Caroline, "Well no one seems to be rushing." and "How much longer will there be traffic?' I have no idea I'm not psychic, Our guests were napping and Caroline was having a monologue of her own most of what I was ignoring. Will I ever learn? "Mama, Mama, I'm asking you a question, " Caroline pushed on my seat and said, "Aren't you listening to me?" Well I think it most have been obvious I wasn't, so I didn't answer. She continued without missing a beat, "Do you know ___________?" I tried to get context as she blurted out, "You know the tall nerdy kid who's totally weird?" Oh yeah, well that certainly narrows it down oh 5'10 totally weird child of mine. I simply responded, "I know who he is." "Well, " Caroline informed me, "Maria doesn't like him because he groped her." "WHAT?!?!?!?" Now she had my full attention as I was trying not to have an accident as I contorted my body to look at her while simultaneously rehearsing i my mind a conversation with Maria's mother. "You know, last week when she went to school with me." I tried to remain calm, "He groped her and you are just now telling me? Did you tell anyone?" Caroline, "Why would I do that?" "Caroline," I tried to calmly continue, "Please tell me exactly what happened." Caroline, "It wasn't that big of a deal. He just walked up to her and groped her arm really tightly." William, sitting in the front seat, is looking at me with a "she's an idiot" look.
My heart rate began to drop and I said, "Caroline, that is called gripping her arm. You can't go around and say someone groped someone. That's going to really get someone in trouble." (I totally missed the point that he also should not have been gripping her arm tightly but that's a conversation for another day." "Why not?" Caroline truly innocently asked. "Because," I said, "That is not what people think of when they hear the word groping. And if you said that at school he would get called in and be in some really big trouble before it got sorted out." "Well, what does groping mean?" she asked. William yanked off his ear phones and said, "PLEASE do not tell her!!!!" "Yes, tell me," she hollered from the back seat. "Mama please no," William begged. "William I have to explain it. She can't say things she doesn't understand." I said as I looked in the rear view mirror to make certain our guests were still napping. "Caroline, groping is usually the term used when someone grabs your breasts or bottom, so when you say someone has groped someone else that is what most people think you're talking about." William buried his head in his hands just at the time I realized our guests are also possums. As they were holding their sides and silently laughing, Caroline finished the conversation with, "I still like the word grope better than grip." "Caroline, just because you like a word better doesn't mean you can use it inappropriately." "Who's going to stop me?" Caroline asked, "The groping police."
We arrived at All Saints and as I got out of the car I saw our good friend and family favorite John MacLean, "Just so you know, Caroline was in rare form (or really just normal form) so the other two...." I began to say, but really how do you explain or even know what the other two might need? Instead I finished with, "Good luck. Have a great weekend."
10 October 2014
Being the Youngest
We were in the kitchen--Boss was revisiting his idea to take the Greyhound to Atlanta for a rap concert...Then he moved onto could his friend come over after school. Me, "No, I'm not going to be here I've got to go get food for Caroline for tomorrow night." Chris, "Yep, no one is to be here without Mama or me being home." Boss, "How about we go to the grocery store for you?" While I was thinking how this was probably going to end up costing me far more than I wanted it to, I was also thinking I could have an afternoon at home--I've worked five straight days where I didn't get home before 9 pm. "Sure," I said. "That'll work." I handed him the list. Just then Caroline walked in and said, "Oh tomorrow after the get together." Me, "You mean the get together that we're not calling a party because I told you no party but yet there are 20 freshmen coming to my house tomorrow?" Caroline, "There are not 20 coming; there's only 18." Oh of course THAT makes it a get together not a party.
"Anyway," Caroline continued, "Toree and Rachel are going to spend the night." "Okay." I responded. Boss jumped up, "What? Are you kidding me.? I would never have gotten away with just telling you people were going to spend the night when I was a freshmen. Wednesday night you come home to find Maria here and you just hugged her. That would never happen with my friends." (I absolutely would hug them and do but some of them might think it's creepy so I do try to control myself.) But he did have a point about Caroline's communication...
Wednesday night I arrived home at 10 pm and Chris asked, "Did you know Maria was coming?" "Maria's here?" I asked. Maria is Caroline's best friend from Bowling Green and there is a history of her showing up... But I love that girl so I bounded up the stairs to Caroline's room and gave her a big hug. Caroline's friends LIKE me to hug them. Caroline, "Did I forget to tell you again Maria was coming?" "Yeah you did," I said, "And what's she going to do tomorrow when you go to school?" Caroline, "Oh I've got that covered; I already talked to Mr. Behr (head of the upper school)." Glad someone gets clued into what 's going on at my house.
But back to Boss.."That is not true," I responded, "You know your friends are always welcome here." "No I'm serious," Boss continued not responding to my response because he was in the zone of the explaining the preferential treatment of the youngest and probably not able to hear me. "She just hands you a list of food she wants for a party that's not a party (glad he got that right) and you just do it. Caroline, you think it sucks being the youngest but you get all privileges." It did cross my mind that I should remind him I HATE that word, but he was in the zone and so he continued, "Name one thing that sucks (That word again!) about being the youngest and don't say something stupid like 'everyone else gets to drive first' because you will get to drive." "Well," I finally found something to say that may break the zone barrier, "She may get her license but at the rate you're going she'll have nothing to drive. Everything will be totaled by then." Boss, "Okay that may be the one bad part of being the youngest."
"Anyway," Caroline continued, "Toree and Rachel are going to spend the night." "Okay." I responded. Boss jumped up, "What? Are you kidding me.? I would never have gotten away with just telling you people were going to spend the night when I was a freshmen. Wednesday night you come home to find Maria here and you just hugged her. That would never happen with my friends." (I absolutely would hug them and do but some of them might think it's creepy so I do try to control myself.) But he did have a point about Caroline's communication...
Wednesday night I arrived home at 10 pm and Chris asked, "Did you know Maria was coming?" "Maria's here?" I asked. Maria is Caroline's best friend from Bowling Green and there is a history of her showing up... But I love that girl so I bounded up the stairs to Caroline's room and gave her a big hug. Caroline's friends LIKE me to hug them. Caroline, "Did I forget to tell you again Maria was coming?" "Yeah you did," I said, "And what's she going to do tomorrow when you go to school?" Caroline, "Oh I've got that covered; I already talked to Mr. Behr (head of the upper school)." Glad someone gets clued into what 's going on at my house.
But back to Boss.."That is not true," I responded, "You know your friends are always welcome here." "No I'm serious," Boss continued not responding to my response because he was in the zone of the explaining the preferential treatment of the youngest and probably not able to hear me. "She just hands you a list of food she wants for a party that's not a party (glad he got that right) and you just do it. Caroline, you think it sucks being the youngest but you get all privileges." It did cross my mind that I should remind him I HATE that word, but he was in the zone and so he continued, "Name one thing that sucks (That word again!) about being the youngest and don't say something stupid like 'everyone else gets to drive first' because you will get to drive." "Well," I finally found something to say that may break the zone barrier, "She may get her license but at the rate you're going she'll have nothing to drive. Everything will be totaled by then." Boss, "Okay that may be the one bad part of being the youngest."
01 September 2014
On Being Chauffeured
I miss driving. I miss being able to jump in the car and go where I need to when I need to (or want to). Well, I really couldn't do that right now anyway since my car is STILL in the shop from the accident SK had three weeks ago--she says it was good timing since I can't drive anyway because of the boot on my right foot. I suppose that's one way to look at it---
I know there are people who drive with their left foot--I have been one of those people. I was one of those people and because I was I have raised the bar on how to tick off your mother in law to a height my sister in laws can never reach. A year and a half ago I pulled into my mother in law's driveway driving with my left foot. I put the car in park but didn't turn it off--why? I have no idea...as I lifted my right foot over the console it knocked the gear into drive. I slammed on the brakes--well I thought I slammed on the brakes; I slammed the gas pedal down. My car lurched forward, clipped Chris' rear bumper and plowed into my mother in law's brand new BMW (some series I cannot even begin to think about affording). Her car plowed into their fence, slightly up the hill of their back yard and came to a complete stop by knocking down their shed. (They should probably thank me for taking out their shed; they wanted it down and they were going to have to pay someone to do what I managed to accomplish in just a few minutes, at no charge, well at least to them...) My car was totaled which is why I now have this beautiful car I love that my children keep wrecking! And so I don't drive when I'm in a boot---
Nonetheless, the novelty of being chauffeured by my children is starting to wear off for me; I think it is long gone for Boss. He says driving with me makes him nervous because I'm always grabbing the roof or slamming my non boot foot into the dashboard. In my defense, he has been involved in multiple accidents this summer; in his defense they weren't all his fault. Yesterday as we were driving and I was both grabbing the roof and slamming my foot he asked, "What do you think doing that is going to do other than increase my anxiety?" "I just don't want to die." I replied. "Well," he retorted, 'if we wreck and die wouldn't you rather them find your body in a normal position and not all contorted and weird?" I'm pretty sure there is no right answer to that....
Wednesday Boss was taking me in his truck downtown to church. It's typically my day off, but one of my parishioners was going to receive communion for the first time at the 5:30 service and I wanted to be there. (She is absolutely precious and there was no way I was missing this!) Another difference Boss and I have is how we get to church. I cannot stand driving on interstates if I don't have to; he cannot stand stopping at traffic lights. (He has not had an accident at a traffic light so I'm assuming he does stop when he has to.) I suggested to him that the interstate may not be the best choice because it was traffic time; he didn't listen. Being chauffeured by your children gives you a lot of practice in knowing when to speak and when to let them make choices and deal with the consequences. This was one of those times--
We got on the interstate and within five minutes were stopped in the inside lane (a point that will become important) in traffic. At one point I timed it and we went less than a mile in 10 minutes (I said I didn't speak not that I didn't take guilty pleasure in knowing I was right). My hand was getting a work out grabbing the roof as we were stopping and starting continuously and I thought not leaving enough room between cars-- Boss turned to me and said, "My stomach is killing me. I feel really sick." "You can lie down on my couch when we get to my office." (I didn't add where we would already be if you had listened to me.) "I really feel like I'm going to be sick." Just then he rolled down his window--yep he was. So now he's throwing up out the driver's side window and trying to watch the traffic as it is starting and stopping, I started scanning the road trying to figure out how we could pull off--there was no way. I was trying to be sympathetic and help him so I turned around in my seat to find a cloth or a drink. I grabbed one of his t-shirts so he could wipe his face and the side of the door. (I couldn't believe how much crap there was in the backseat--another opportunity to practice not speaking.) As I turned back around I caught the eye of the driver next to us. I could almost hear her judging me. I moved the seat back and tried to get my foot up on the dashboard. "What ARE you doing?" Boss asked as I was contorting myself. "I've got to get my foot up so people know I'm not a self centered mother who makes her son drive her around while he's throwing up." I'm pretty sure he thought, "No, not a self centered mother but definitely a neurotic, paranoid one." but now it was his turn to practice not speaking.
I know there are people who drive with their left foot--I have been one of those people. I was one of those people and because I was I have raised the bar on how to tick off your mother in law to a height my sister in laws can never reach. A year and a half ago I pulled into my mother in law's driveway driving with my left foot. I put the car in park but didn't turn it off--why? I have no idea...as I lifted my right foot over the console it knocked the gear into drive. I slammed on the brakes--well I thought I slammed on the brakes; I slammed the gas pedal down. My car lurched forward, clipped Chris' rear bumper and plowed into my mother in law's brand new BMW (some series I cannot even begin to think about affording). Her car plowed into their fence, slightly up the hill of their back yard and came to a complete stop by knocking down their shed. (They should probably thank me for taking out their shed; they wanted it down and they were going to have to pay someone to do what I managed to accomplish in just a few minutes, at no charge, well at least to them...) My car was totaled which is why I now have this beautiful car I love that my children keep wrecking! And so I don't drive when I'm in a boot---
Nonetheless, the novelty of being chauffeured by my children is starting to wear off for me; I think it is long gone for Boss. He says driving with me makes him nervous because I'm always grabbing the roof or slamming my non boot foot into the dashboard. In my defense, he has been involved in multiple accidents this summer; in his defense they weren't all his fault. Yesterday as we were driving and I was both grabbing the roof and slamming my foot he asked, "What do you think doing that is going to do other than increase my anxiety?" "I just don't want to die." I replied. "Well," he retorted, 'if we wreck and die wouldn't you rather them find your body in a normal position and not all contorted and weird?" I'm pretty sure there is no right answer to that....
Wednesday Boss was taking me in his truck downtown to church. It's typically my day off, but one of my parishioners was going to receive communion for the first time at the 5:30 service and I wanted to be there. (She is absolutely precious and there was no way I was missing this!) Another difference Boss and I have is how we get to church. I cannot stand driving on interstates if I don't have to; he cannot stand stopping at traffic lights. (He has not had an accident at a traffic light so I'm assuming he does stop when he has to.) I suggested to him that the interstate may not be the best choice because it was traffic time; he didn't listen. Being chauffeured by your children gives you a lot of practice in knowing when to speak and when to let them make choices and deal with the consequences. This was one of those times--
We got on the interstate and within five minutes were stopped in the inside lane (a point that will become important) in traffic. At one point I timed it and we went less than a mile in 10 minutes (I said I didn't speak not that I didn't take guilty pleasure in knowing I was right). My hand was getting a work out grabbing the roof as we were stopping and starting continuously and I thought not leaving enough room between cars-- Boss turned to me and said, "My stomach is killing me. I feel really sick." "You can lie down on my couch when we get to my office." (I didn't add where we would already be if you had listened to me.) "I really feel like I'm going to be sick." Just then he rolled down his window--yep he was. So now he's throwing up out the driver's side window and trying to watch the traffic as it is starting and stopping, I started scanning the road trying to figure out how we could pull off--there was no way. I was trying to be sympathetic and help him so I turned around in my seat to find a cloth or a drink. I grabbed one of his t-shirts so he could wipe his face and the side of the door. (I couldn't believe how much crap there was in the backseat--another opportunity to practice not speaking.) As I turned back around I caught the eye of the driver next to us. I could almost hear her judging me. I moved the seat back and tried to get my foot up on the dashboard. "What ARE you doing?" Boss asked as I was contorting myself. "I've got to get my foot up so people know I'm not a self centered mother who makes her son drive her around while he's throwing up." I'm pretty sure he thought, "No, not a self centered mother but definitely a neurotic, paranoid one." but now it was his turn to practice not speaking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)