Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Julep: Ay caramba

Just read this article. Last lines say it all: "Women of the Gilded Age were very poor compared to women today. But from a libertarian standpoint, they were freer than they are on Sex and the City." I think my head just exploded.

Twinks, congrats on your newfound placid attitude re the inlaws. But please, keep blogging about whatever else inspires your ire, awe or frustration! I need the reading material.

I got an email today from J-Mama, attaching photos of my sister's baby and reporting that my sister would really like it if I stopped by to see him sometime soon because she is just so ga-ga over the baby that she can't understand why I haven't dropped in to see how big he's getting. OK, it just so happens that I called my sister on Sunday and she hasn't bothered to call me back yet, so obviously my presence is not that vital to her. It's great that she loves her kid and all, but I have never been someone who just leaps at any opportunity to fawn over a baby. And seriously? For serious? She can't understand why I am not dropping in?

Exhibit A, fifteen years of nastiness from her which yes, has improved a lot in recent years, but Exhibit B, hey, I'm kind of having a hard time with visiting other people's kids lately. It takes a lot of mental effort to set aside my own increasing frustration and disappointment and focus on being happy for someone else. It is one thing to gird myself for a joyful visit to my buddy P whose wife just home-birthed their third child. P really wanted me to come by and meet the baby, and I was glad to do it. P doesn't just want an audience for his miracle spawn - he loves ME. My sister? Not so much.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Mr. Twinkle: Able to Quote Junior League Gossip and History

So I've been absent from Daddy Rabbit recently, mostly because I have tried to turn over a new leaf with my in-laws and haven't had much to say. It was around Fathers Day when it happened. We were going over there to cook steaks for dinner, which neither Mr. Twinkle or I particularly wanted to spend our Fathers Day doing, but they said that's how it was going to go down. So let it be written, so let it be done.

After getting upset that Mr. Twinkle wasn't having a dream-come-true Fathers Day, I decided to be done with worrying about any of that whole crazy clan. If he doesn't want to stand up to them at the expense of his own Fathers Day, it's his problem. If they don't ever think I'm good enough, it's their problem. I have majorly relaxed around them in the past 2 weeks or so, and I can tell a real difference in my own sanity. To them I'm sure I'm still alternately considered an unfit mother and an uppity b*tch; the difference is that I don't care.

We went to pick blueberries on Fathers Day (something Mr. Twinkle did want to do), and it was his idea for me to make a homemade shortcake dessert with blueberries, peaches, and fresh whipped cream. He wanted me to take it there; I felt weird about taking a dessert when MIL's whole self-identity is wrapped up in baking better than anyone else on the face of the earth (or so she thinks), and FIL worships the ground her cakes cool on. Plus, I had to ask myself, "Why do I keep trying?" But we ended up going through with it, and it really made me feel like an adult to actually contribute something to a family dinner. No one in that family contributes...because MIL likes to be in charge of everything that everyone eats/does, and how they socialize. My shortcake sort of represented a little piece of delicious independence. Also, MIL found out that I do, in fact, eat whipped cream. Now she knows it's Cool Whip I shun, as any sane person living in today's food-conscious climate knows.

So things have gotten better there, and I haven't kept a tally of all the big and small ways MIL tries to make me feel inferior, and the biggest beneficiary of this new-found attitude is me. She actually texted me this weekend from Denver, to ask me if Twinklette has a upf-treated beach hat for our upcoming trip to Aruba. Old Twinkle would have screamed about it to anyone who would listen, "Hell no, Twinklette doesn't, and screw her!" New Twinkle forgot to mention it to anyone for a few days, and then laughed it off as typical. (Both old and new Twinkle would go shopping for just such a hat before MIL has the chance to ask me in person, which reminds me I need to get on that).

Anyway, I didn't even get on here to write about all that...I just felt my absence needed to be explained.

--------------------------------

I got on to say that Mr. Twinkle and I went to a late-night dinner at Steak And Shake after a dull party with no food on Sat. night, and we ran into a certain Junior League-lovin' sister-in-law of a certain Democratic candidate for U.S. Senate. And I said hi to her and we chatted for a little bit, because she has always been lovely to me even though our League cliques and philosophies have differed through the years. She mentioned her brother-in-law in the conversation (something about a power outage and a sprinkler system), so when she walked away, I started to explain who she was.

Me: I know her from Junior League. Her sister is married to [Senate Candidate]; that's who she was talking about with the sprinklers.

Mr. Twinkle: Oh, cool. You know the sister, too, right?

Me: Yes, she's nice.

Mr. Twinkle: Wait a minute--are they part of that family of sisters who tried to take over the entire Junior League through both the board and the nominating process?

I just beamed with pride.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Not For The Eyes of The Situation: Dibbs

Lola, cover The Situation's eyes, and everybody try to just decode what I'm saying the best you can. I'm way too prudish to even be telling this story, but I just can't keep it to myself.

Last night I went to hear a band and got home late. It took forever to fall asleep. At about three I heard the all-too-familiar squeak-squeak of the mattress from the skank-ho upstairs. "Strange," I thought, "her boyfriend's orange truck hasn't been outside in days." I tried to go back to sleep. Then I heard the high-pitched yip, yip, yip of the dog. Yes! I think skankalicious was using the old peanut butter trick!

Well, I couldn't sleep after that. I took two Ambien and got the broom. One more noise, and as God is my Witness, I'm hitting the ceiling. If she's going to be a trick, she loses her right to privacy, and I don't care.

I also know that I'm the bitter, dried up old lady downstairs. I don't care about that, either. The dog!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Won't You Take Me to...Crazytown?: Dibbs

She called tonight. My mother had enough, so she called me. It lasted an hour. By the way, she wants to visit next week and take Baby Shagari to the zoo, so if you want to see her up close and personal, it's your chance.

I digress. Last week one of my middle school classmates passed away. (His name was Rufus. It's okay to think that's funny.) Since I was already at the funeral home, I asked the funeral director about it. The services were delayed because the state medical examiner had to be involved. Rufus (the name is still funny) hung himself. Despite the name, it's very tragic. Tonight, cray-cray was telling me how she's pretty sure her baby daddy killed Rufus. I told her about my conversation with the funeral director. She is undeterred. I suppose the state medical director is mistaken and her baby daddy is a high-school drop-out/evil genius. Who knew?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Julep: Quick Vent

Several months ago, Mr. J and I sat down with the calendar and filled in all his summer sailing trips. Then Mr. J told me before we went to Italy that many of the trips would be cancelled. I deleted all but the four trips he told me were still on or possibly on, delighted to think of all the summertime fun we would be able to have with him home so much more often.

Since we got home last Tuesday, I have made all sorts of plans for this weekend. I requested the firm's clubhouse seats for night racing and invited two fun couples to join us. I RSVPed our attendance at the annual summer associate barbecue. I arranged with J-Mama to get together on Saturday during the day to celebrate Step-Papa's birthday. And our Supper Club friends decided to make our monthly gathering a picnic at the Willow Park Concert. What a fun weekend! Needless to say, I asked Mr. J about all of these plans as they were being made.

Then TODAY at 12:30 pm Mr. J informs me that he will be sailing in Cleveland this weekend. It seems there was some error of communication in the calendar-clearing. Double-booked. Oops!

I hate seeing my fun-filled weekend disintegrate. Not that I won't do all these things without him, but if I thought life was just as fun without him, I wouldn't have married him to start with.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

They Already Went Through The Jewelry, Dammit: Dibbs

Remember how I got all that vintage jewelry from my grandmother? Remember how excited I was, and how I'm going to get it made into cool, cool stuff?

I just talked to my mother. I told her how I'm going to wear my grandmother's necklace. (I found coordinating earrings at Red Tree. Fab.) I explained how if my aunt or cousin say anything I'll just sneer and say that jewelry doesn't go with their shoes.

This is what I get for being snide. They went through all the jewelry. They didn't want it. I got it by default. Would it be terribly tacky to wear a soup spoon around my neck?

By the way, cousin, when your grandfather tells people that his adult grandchild works two days a week in a pet food store, it makes her sound like she has supported employment.

Julep: Ingratitude, Again

It occurred to me as I was on my way here to post that we all have our themes here, don't we? Twinkle struggles to be recognized and valued as an individual in the face of her in-laws. Dibbs is surrounded by crazy people. LoLa is the Tweeter of happy little moments. And I am the ingrate.

Before I launch into that -- Mr. Twinkle had a nose job? Do-buh-what?

OK, so ... ingratitude. Here's what I've reconstructed from the evidence: shortly before we went to Italy, Mr-Papa suggested to Mr. J that he was thinking of signing us up for scuba lessons. When I say "us" I don't mean Mr. J, who is already certified and would love for me to be. "Us" is Mr-Papa, Mr-Sis, and myself. We have had this conversation in the past, that it would be neat and we should all arrange to do the lessons here at some point. The prime talker on my count is Mr. J. I have not been 100% on board with this notion, as I am a pretty poor swimmer, but I am willing to smile and nod about something that is well down the road.

Not as far as I thought, apparently. Mr-Papa has his big ol' boat gearing up for next winter in the tropics, and he is making plans. He called around, got us registered, scheduled the first class ... all before anyone mentioned it to me. Now, in Mr-Papa's defense, he apparently did discuss this with Mr. J - at least in the initial stage, and then we left for Italy. And in Mr. J's defense, it was a preliminary mention while he was running around getting ready for Italy. It slipped his mind. Highly understandable. But the long and short is, the first I heard of this was on Sunday night, when Mr-Papa inquired what time they should pick me up on Monday to head to the lesson at 4:30.

Now I don't usually leave work at 4. And I often have plans in the evenings that can't be rearranged. (Not in this case, thanks to LoLa's willingness to be flexible.)

It was very nice of Mr-Papa to take the initiative, and even nicer of him to pick up half the tab. But I generally like more than 18 hours notice that I am going to drop $250 on anything.

And did I mention that I wasn't completely on board with this whole scuba idea? The first lesson did make me feel more comfortable on one count, as I survived the swim test (note that 14 laps and ten minutes of treading water have left me totally exhausted even a day later). But it did raise another issue: the medical page of the release you have to sign asked if you are pregnant or trying to become pregnant. I checked Yes and no one said anything ... I am not too worried for the time being as even if I conceived this month, it's not even anchored in yet - plus we are only "diving" in a pool to get used to breathing with the regulators. I figure by the time the class gets to pressure changes, I will know I'm not pregs or can call the doctor to ask if I should stop the class.

I don't want to put life on hold on the off chance that I might get pregnant. But I would sure hate for all this time (and money) go to waste if I can't complete the course, not to mention having to share news with the Mr-Family well in advance of the time that I would otherwise choose to do so.

Sometimes a gift can be a burden. Maybe check with the recipient first sometimes. That's all I'm saying.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Twinkle: Comparisons

I just had this epiphany and had to share.

My MIL constantly compares Baby Sophie (the real one) to my SIL, and Baby Sophie is always on the unfavorable end of the comparison. MIL will say, for instance:

"Well, Sophie didn't get that nose from SIL." (I am pretty darn sure my SIL had a nose job. I know Mr. Twinkle did).

"Yes, Sophie does look exactly like SIL, except for that broad forehead. See how dainty SIL's forehead is." (Although, I must add, in SIL's baby pictures she has the exact same forehead, and I don't see anything wrong with the forehead of either mother or daughter...talk about nitpicky).

"Sophie doesn't look like SIL as much anymore, now that her face is getting fatter. SIL's face is so slender." (She's 6 months old...her face is supposed to be fat).

I have never heard my mother (or any family member who would remember me as a child) compare the features of Twinklette and me...but what a great way to give your brand-new granddaughter an inferiority complex! It's even been making me uncomfortable for awhile now, and I have no dog in the fight about who between my SIL and her baby is cuter and more perfect...but it just goes to show you how much MIL is truly obsessed with her perfect my SIL is. I mean, most grandmothers think there's nobody more perfect than their grandchildren...but even precious Baby Sophie can't hold a candle to my SIL. Before Sophie was born, I just assumed that any child of my SIL's would be the most perfect child ever born in my MIL's eyes. I should have known that, to my MIL, not even SIL's baby could compare to the glorious perfection already achieved by my SIL. Unbelievable, but not surprising.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Blue Baby is Blue Baby, Dammit

So Twinklette is just a teensy bit obsessed with babies and she's particularly interested in her new cousin, Baby Sophie. She has a baby doll named Baby Sophie, but sometimes in that doll's absence, other inanimate objects stand in for Baby Sophie the doll. The items that she has carried around and referred to as Baby Sophie include but aren't limited to a Boo Boo Buddy, a Cuisinart attachment (not a sharp one), a small rock, a pile of baby wipes, and a rubber ducky. When Baby Sophie is on her mind, she will find anything in sight and pretend it's her cousin, and, yes, I think her Baby Sophie fixation is adorable and I encourage it.

Alright...so she spent the night with my in-laws a few weeks ago and she came back the next day calling her favorite doll, Blue Baby, "Baby Sophie." (I realize the example linked is not wearing blue...it's the closest approximation I could find, and Blue Baby is really the only one of her kind I've ever seen. She was meant for Twinklette). Well, I like Blue Baby because I got it for Twinklette after she saw it in Playthings and fell in love with it, and it's the first doll she named herself and it's her special doll, and I want Blue Baby to remain Blue Baby. I insisted that, no, it's Blue Baby, and here's your other doll Baby Sophie. She reverted to the original names and all was right with the world.

But for the next few weeks, every time we saw my in-laws, they kept talking about how she was calling Blue Baby "Baby Sophie" (as if she doesn't call everything that), and I just really felt like they were on some big campaign to have her favorite doll be named Baby Sophie. At one point, Blue Baby came up in conversation (as she so often does), and my FIL said, "There's no more Blue Baby. She calls her Baby Sophie." I just about jumped down his throat to preserve the integrity of the first doll my daughter named.

I know it's kind of dumb, but the way they were trying to change Twinklette's favorite doll's name has been bothering me...I just wanted a record of it. It's not the big things they do, really; it's the sum of all the little things.