Paid To Nag
I now spend as much time nagging my father as I do the kids, who are all rather annoying at the moment : The Girl demanding attention every nano- second of the day ( look at me ! look at me !- I then ask her when I can regain custody of my eyes, the freedom to look at what I choose to-).
The Boy, well, is ok, except that every other day he has a melt-down of some sort, perhaps simply to keep his uber- gargoyle imitation up to par. Although, to be honest, sometimes Dad and I do just push him over the edge- we get so weary of his sound effects. Dad says it’s like living with a PlayStation game walking next to you.
We did that yesterday. We did it last year as well : we were driving along some long and tree lined stretch between Alabama and Florida and some squabble in the back seat arose concerning the IQ of Stinky, The Boy’s ( yes, believe it or not) blanket. As Dad and I sat in the front, trying to keep our eyeballs from rolling up into their sockets from boredom, The Boy was countering – and getting quite het up about- The Girl’s comment that Stinky was stupid.
Tears rolled down The Boy’s cheeks, his voice quivered in anguish, his jaw dropped into the familiar gargoyle stance. ‘ Stinky’s not stupid’ he said. Dad and I looked at each other. Why, Stinky isn’t stupid at all, we said with much enthusiasm. Why, just last week, scouts from Harvard were here, trying to track down Stinky’s home address…
Didn’t help anything, really, but Dad and I had a good laugh.
I can’t quite recall what started it yesterday, perhaps when I poured some ice cold beer down his neck and shocked the shit out of him. Couldn’t very well beat him with a baseball bat, could I ? Modern times require modern methods. But he erupted- for whatever reason- after Dad made a comment about a (?) mini- mickey from an Austin Powers film followed by me making that popping sound that Donkey makes in Shrek 2, as we drove along. Telling myself I was being ‘ educational’- as all good mother’s should be- I demonstrated 3 ways to make that popping sound. Pop !
Pop!
Pop!
Sometimes, it just feels good to be as irritating asThe Boy, and in just the same manner.
And The Baby could teach the Wicked Step- Mother in Snow White a few lessons in rude and bossy behavior at the moment. Quite the nasty viper, today, our Baby.
And Dad keeps telling me how he has to exercise his leg. I put that fairy tale right to bed, each and every time he trundles it out. One would think – having gone to Harvard and all- that he would catch on, realize that I’m not buying that pipe- dream at all.
He is going to loose his stinkin’ leg. And he wonders were the kids get their pig- headed behavior from.
I could give you a run for your money on Donkey’s pop sound. I use it to torture my kids all the time….which is my right, as their mother, my right and distinct pleasure.
I suppose it’s hard having to share their mum’s attention not only with two siblings, but also suddenly with a grandfather they rarely see, as well as any other ‘new’ children and adults around. I think I was just as possessive of my parents when I was a child – weren’t we all? Seeing your parents’ friends and family was fun, but after a while you just needed to spend some time just with either one or both of your parents, even if it was only a few hours, to calm down and to be reminded of the closer bond between you, with no ‘outside’ influences like grandparents or cousins or whatever.
Perhaps they are just looking forward to home.
{{HUGS}} I hope your Dad’s leg does well and THANK YOU for the subtle reminders of why I DON”T rush out on those family vacations w/the boys often… Miss you – hope you are really having a good time overall…
Hi all- I have about an hour a day on the computer, so have to speed through things ( trying to set up a euro- meet as well), so it might take me…more than a day to answer comments.
But to Angel, the vacation is good, it’s just that I’m having to play the single mom ( tough role, I’m sure you know-), as well as giving a lot of myself to my dad. I’m lucky : I love my father, he loves me, but right now, I’m the only person in this whole wide world that can nag him effectively. And- Angel- as you know, I guess- sometimes, late at night, I miss someone just helping me to deal with the minor things- likes Meg’s imperial attitude-
While my August date is not as painful as yours- not a tenth as much- it is still there. I can foorget others, but one that fell on our anniversery ?
Many hugs to you, Angel, as ever-
David, what you say might be true, but I’m a person who prefers having times of silence : I don’t mind being by myself, a strange trait in a firstborn.
Of course, when the children were young, I spent oodles of time with them, but they are now all in school, so I have become accustomed to time of my own. I miss that time. And – in this situation- miss having the peer about, someone with whom I can relate the trivia of the day.
From the children’s point of view..hmmm. They are- after so many weeks- getting homesick, though truth be told, we do more things here than we would do at home. And they are comfortable here- love the Grandparents, the whole bit.
But children aren’t really innocent little cherubs, they enjoy making their own entertainment, you know, I’m bored, let’s get Mike in trouble.
And our children know the truth : I’m a watje. Imagine, I poured cold beer down the back of Mike’s neck the other day as a reprimand. Uh… violent measures indeed-
Just wish me luck in getting my father to take care of himself. I dangle the road trip from hell – to take place next year- in an attempt to get him to sit- in- his- chair
sue
Karan : Pop!
(stinkin’ love it-)
Jo, I shall be picking your brain later. Because of…life, Dad and I must spend far too much time talking. I am but a simple housewife. This whole family shit has really piqued his interest and might be a good ( read : on line) hobby for him.
Now, having read about your attraction for old family photos, imagine this : I drag a small photo album downstairs today, asking about all of these unfamiliar phots- going back to the twenties. Dad says, well, he found this 1 by 1 foot box of negatives years back and took a handfull every week or so to WallyWorld and had them developed. And then he stopped, for he wondered who else would be interested in them. Uh, Dad, I asked, where is that box of negatives ?
I can’t find it. I went through his office and the basement, but he insists that he didn’t throw them away.
They are in the basement, somewhere ( bye the bye, they have both scorpions and poisonius snakes down here, in the heart of Dixie).. and so, tomorrow…it passes the time-
Ooh, a box of negatives? I came across an old negative and couldn’t figure out what it was of. Took it to CVS… a picture of the old family homestead circa 1900.
If you figure out how to keep your father in that chair and on his best behavior, could you please share? My father tends to listen to me, but he is being so stubborn that he is going to be deaf and blind by his birthday next year. Hmmph. So much for graduating from the “Harvard of the South.”
I’m at the point, Eliz, where I almost pray that if I slapped both of his cheeks- very soundly- he would open his eyes and see what he is doing.
Oh, and I fudged the truth a bit : he did go to Harvard, but not the college, he went to the University.
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