The brother's girlfriend called crying today. She's not sure she can go on our trip. Her parents told her, among other things, that she would go to Hell for dating my brother. Apparently they don't like Canada.
You can imagine the response at our respective houses. Dad took her to talk to our preachers. Mom worked on a new bathroom so she could move in. I practiced my speech and googled her daddy's phone number. The Poynter genes were rising up.
I haven't called...yet. I did just take a Lortab. All bets are off. I wrote down one line so I wouldn't forget. Ready? "I'm glad I already know [gf.] I'm not sure I would want [brother] dating someone you raised." Burn.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Twinkle: So...It's Another Girl!
And y'all know I'm thrilled to welcome another member into the family sorority. I know it's a major disappointment to the Mr. Twinkle family--my inlaws came to pick up the girls to take them swimming this afternoon, and my MIL did not even bother to say, "Congratulations." It's OK. I don't need her congratulations--the prospect of being the mother-of-the-bride at not one, not two, but three weddings and not having to worry about some b*tch coming along to steal my baby boy away is congratulations enough. (Just teasing on that...y'all know I was excited at the prospect of welcoming a new daughter-in-law into the fold and treating her with the kindness I have never received from my own MIL). But it was not to be. Instead I get fashion advice (wanted or otherwise), great presents, spa weekends, and cocktail hours when everyone comes home from college. Y'all are invited.
So anyway, MIL couldn't bring herself to congratulate me (FIL did, which I appreciated, even though it is his ancestral name that won't be passed down to the next generation). I'm sure if she could, she'd have me beheaded, but whatever. I'm over it.
All she could talk about was my sister-in-law's old trundle bed from the '80s. It's a white, block-shaped, soul-sucking, pressed plastic monstrosity, about 2 feet off the ground with a trundle under it. I think I blocked out the details on it, but whenever it was in SIL's room (before she got married and they put a double bed in there) it was so ugly I did not even want to be in there with it. It was sad. Pathetic. Sinful. The memory of [it] is grievous unto me; the burden of [it] is intolerable. (There's a little Episcopal liturgy for you).
So she is trying to push this sad '80s trundle bed off on me. Has she been to my house? Has she seen that I have this wallpaper in my girls' bathroom? Has she noticed that I'm raising my daughters to have good taste? Well, it starts with cute bedroom furniture, and while I love antiques and family heirlooms, I do have standards and I approve and edit all furniture and accessories that come through this door. As someone who ordered this bed for Twinklette, and then painted it a darling shade of pink, I am not about to put some tacky '80s trundle bed in my house. I mean, it wouldn't be quite fair to Tiny T to give her an ugly bed, and I feel confident that Twinklette would know the bed was ugly and wouldn't want it anywhere near her bedroom.
Here's the plan: I'm ordering the same bed Twinklette has for Tiny T, painting it pink, and ordering the coordinating trundles for both beds so that new baby sister can camp out in there when she's older if she wants to, and there will still be room for the occasional friend. It's fair to both inhabitants of the room, the decor will remain adorable, and everyone's happy except my MIL. And if I cared about making her happy, I would have had a boy.
If someone has to take this damn trundle bed, why can't my SIL take it? She's shopping for a big girl bed for her daughter, and I don't hear anyone pushing off the ugly *ss bed on her. MIL actually went bed shopping with her while we were all up in New England a few weeks ago. I bet those two will pick the ugliest damn bed in Connecticut--and that'll be hard to do, because everything there is cute. They'll find a way, though; they always do.
Guess what: I've got a bunch of daughters and I'm bringing them up with good taste. The tackiness cycle stops with me!
So anyway, MIL couldn't bring herself to congratulate me (FIL did, which I appreciated, even though it is his ancestral name that won't be passed down to the next generation). I'm sure if she could, she'd have me beheaded, but whatever. I'm over it.
All she could talk about was my sister-in-law's old trundle bed from the '80s. It's a white, block-shaped, soul-sucking, pressed plastic monstrosity, about 2 feet off the ground with a trundle under it. I think I blocked out the details on it, but whenever it was in SIL's room (before she got married and they put a double bed in there) it was so ugly I did not even want to be in there with it. It was sad. Pathetic. Sinful. The memory of [it] is grievous unto me; the burden of [it] is intolerable. (There's a little Episcopal liturgy for you).
So she is trying to push this sad '80s trundle bed off on me. Has she been to my house? Has she seen that I have this wallpaper in my girls' bathroom? Has she noticed that I'm raising my daughters to have good taste? Well, it starts with cute bedroom furniture, and while I love antiques and family heirlooms, I do have standards and I approve and edit all furniture and accessories that come through this door. As someone who ordered this bed for Twinklette, and then painted it a darling shade of pink, I am not about to put some tacky '80s trundle bed in my house. I mean, it wouldn't be quite fair to Tiny T to give her an ugly bed, and I feel confident that Twinklette would know the bed was ugly and wouldn't want it anywhere near her bedroom.
Here's the plan: I'm ordering the same bed Twinklette has for Tiny T, painting it pink, and ordering the coordinating trundles for both beds so that new baby sister can camp out in there when she's older if she wants to, and there will still be room for the occasional friend. It's fair to both inhabitants of the room, the decor will remain adorable, and everyone's happy except my MIL. And if I cared about making her happy, I would have had a boy.
If someone has to take this damn trundle bed, why can't my SIL take it? She's shopping for a big girl bed for her daughter, and I don't hear anyone pushing off the ugly *ss bed on her. MIL actually went bed shopping with her while we were all up in New England a few weeks ago. I bet those two will pick the ugliest damn bed in Connecticut--and that'll be hard to do, because everything there is cute. They'll find a way, though; they always do.
Guess what: I've got a bunch of daughters and I'm bringing them up with good taste. The tackiness cycle stops with me!
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Twinkle: You Know What They Say About Girls With Bows In Their Hair...
...They have good mothers.
As long as we're discussing annoying Facebook friends, I have something to contribute. I have one whom I actually don't know--she's someone who sort of knows Mr. Twinkle and when she friended me I said, "Hey, Mr. Twinkle, who is this?" and then I accepted. One of those. She has twin babies; they're kind of cute. That's about all I knew about her, until today, when I learned that I do not like her at all. She posted a picture and this line of BS: "I never thought I'd be a bow-in-the-hair mom. I am totally a bow-in-the-hair mom."
Now, as a so-called "bow-in-the-hair mom," I never defined myself as such because being a bow-in-the-hair mom comes as naturally as breathing to me. I never thought I would be anything but a bow-in-the-hair mom. I mean, what other type of mom is there to be? The type who doesn't brush and style her girls' hair? The type who lets them choose their own outfits in the name of "creativity" and lets them run around looking like messy-haired little ragamuffins, all the while laughing about how they "just won't keep a bow in?" The hippie, Waldorf kind of mother who eschews hairbows and anything else pretty as trappings of the patriarchy? Let me tell you--that reality was never an option for me. Twinklette has known from the beginning that bows are non-negotiable. And, as we all know, that one's a negotiator.
But I have to ask, what is so wrong with being a "bow-in-the-hair mom?" And, if it's such a horrible thing to be, why the change of heart on the part of this random Facebook friend? (Let me venture a guess: is it because bows are adorable? Thought so.) Are there really people out there who see my children approaching, in their matching outfits and their coordinating bows, and say, "Oh, look at those poor children. They have one of those 'bow-in-the-hair' mothers"? I know everyone's judging everyone else's parenting at every turn, but it never occurred to me that bows were in the to-be-judged realm. Is nothing sacred? What's next? Smocking? Jon Jons? Anything not bearing the likeness of Elmo?
What's most offensive to me is the fact that she thought about bows at some point in her life prior to the birth of her children, and that she found something unpalatable about them. Like how we might say, "I'll never let my daughter be on a dance team/wear body glitter/walk around with bitchface." I know I shouldn't care about someone else's bad taste, but it bothers me that she has the same negative view toward bows, of all things, that I do to tramp stamps and vajazzling.
I have another Facebook friend--a former teacher at Twinklette's school, mother of small boys, and family friend. She kind of pokes fun at how my girls wear bows all the time--it's in a fun, loving way and I don't mind it at all. She tagged me in a post that said, "The bigger the bows, the better the mama." Perhaps I should leave that as a comment on the random girl's page, or maybe I should leave her with something much more sinister, like "Welcome to the dark side."
Actually I'll probably just ignore it, because, clearly, she's ignorant.
As long as we're discussing annoying Facebook friends, I have something to contribute. I have one whom I actually don't know--she's someone who sort of knows Mr. Twinkle and when she friended me I said, "Hey, Mr. Twinkle, who is this?" and then I accepted. One of those. She has twin babies; they're kind of cute. That's about all I knew about her, until today, when I learned that I do not like her at all. She posted a picture and this line of BS: "I never thought I'd be a bow-in-the-hair mom. I am totally a bow-in-the-hair mom."
Now, as a so-called "bow-in-the-hair mom," I never defined myself as such because being a bow-in-the-hair mom comes as naturally as breathing to me. I never thought I would be anything but a bow-in-the-hair mom. I mean, what other type of mom is there to be? The type who doesn't brush and style her girls' hair? The type who lets them choose their own outfits in the name of "creativity" and lets them run around looking like messy-haired little ragamuffins, all the while laughing about how they "just won't keep a bow in?" The hippie, Waldorf kind of mother who eschews hairbows and anything else pretty as trappings of the patriarchy? Let me tell you--that reality was never an option for me. Twinklette has known from the beginning that bows are non-negotiable. And, as we all know, that one's a negotiator.
But I have to ask, what is so wrong with being a "bow-in-the-hair mom?" And, if it's such a horrible thing to be, why the change of heart on the part of this random Facebook friend? (Let me venture a guess: is it because bows are adorable? Thought so.) Are there really people out there who see my children approaching, in their matching outfits and their coordinating bows, and say, "Oh, look at those poor children. They have one of those 'bow-in-the-hair' mothers"? I know everyone's judging everyone else's parenting at every turn, but it never occurred to me that bows were in the to-be-judged realm. Is nothing sacred? What's next? Smocking? Jon Jons? Anything not bearing the likeness of Elmo?
What's most offensive to me is the fact that she thought about bows at some point in her life prior to the birth of her children, and that she found something unpalatable about them. Like how we might say, "I'll never let my daughter be on a dance team/wear body glitter/walk around with bitchface." I know I shouldn't care about someone else's bad taste, but it bothers me that she has the same negative view toward bows, of all things, that I do to tramp stamps and vajazzling.
I have another Facebook friend--a former teacher at Twinklette's school, mother of small boys, and family friend. She kind of pokes fun at how my girls wear bows all the time--it's in a fun, loving way and I don't mind it at all. She tagged me in a post that said, "The bigger the bows, the better the mama." Perhaps I should leave that as a comment on the random girl's page, or maybe I should leave her with something much more sinister, like "Welcome to the dark side."
Actually I'll probably just ignore it, because, clearly, she's ignorant.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Julep: short notice
I think it was Tuesday this week when Mr. J's good friend was over at our house helping him move something heavy. I said to Friend, "What are you and Mrs. Friend up to this holiday weekend? Mr. J and I have been saying we'd love to have y'all come over for dinner." Friend agreed that would be nice, promised to consult with Mrs. Friend, and we all went on our way.
Mr. J informed me just about an hour ago that the Friends would be coming to dinner tonight. Now, Mr. J and Friend are terribly close, but I hardly know Mrs. Friend (she's fairly new). And usually if people are coming to my house for dinner, I like to know about it in time to clean the house up a bit - let alone the grocery shopping.
I'm pretty sure there's a Loretty song about this. Mr. J would be well-served by spending some time listening to the wisdom of Loretta Lynn. "Don't come home a drinking with loving on your mind" is another classic that offers him words to live by. If she'd only written something about putting dirty laundry in the hamper and dishes in the dishwasher, I could outsource all my nagging to a Greatest Hits compilation.
Mr. J informed me just about an hour ago that the Friends would be coming to dinner tonight. Now, Mr. J and Friend are terribly close, but I hardly know Mrs. Friend (she's fairly new). And usually if people are coming to my house for dinner, I like to know about it in time to clean the house up a bit - let alone the grocery shopping.
I'm pretty sure there's a Loretty song about this. Mr. J would be well-served by spending some time listening to the wisdom of Loretta Lynn. "Don't come home a drinking with loving on your mind" is another classic that offers him words to live by. If she'd only written something about putting dirty laundry in the hamper and dishes in the dishwasher, I could outsource all my nagging to a Greatest Hits compilation.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Julep: I really can't.
Are y'all on Pinterest? I can't bring myself to go there. I am not a crafter. I love to cook, but that's about as far as I csn go. And all the crafty people wear me out.
On that note, yesterday I clicked through a facebook friend's link about strawberry picking. I like fresh berries and wondered where she went. It turned out to be a link to her blog, where she posts about her crafting ventures, and in the description field, she wrote: "I craft to find the balance."
If there were ever a more pretentious sentence written by someone I once considered one of my best friends, I feel relieved that I never read it. To my memory, the closest runner-up was by the same girl, who once captioned a photo of her kids as "My life's work." Look, I get it. A lot of us feel that way. But certain things that we feel deeply sound so asinine when you say them out loud that really, you just shouldn't.
Bless her heart. I believe she is 100% sincere. But ... I just can't.
On a related note, it occurred to me this weekend that there has to be a word for yuppy people like me (us) who want all our produce to be organic and locally grown but don't want to stop showering or go vegan. What is that word?
On that note, yesterday I clicked through a facebook friend's link about strawberry picking. I like fresh berries and wondered where she went. It turned out to be a link to her blog, where she posts about her crafting ventures, and in the description field, she wrote: "I craft to find the balance."
If there were ever a more pretentious sentence written by someone I once considered one of my best friends, I feel relieved that I never read it. To my memory, the closest runner-up was by the same girl, who once captioned a photo of her kids as "My life's work." Look, I get it. A lot of us feel that way. But certain things that we feel deeply sound so asinine when you say them out loud that really, you just shouldn't.
Bless her heart. I believe she is 100% sincere. But ... I just can't.
On a related note, it occurred to me this weekend that there has to be a word for yuppy people like me (us) who want all our produce to be organic and locally grown but don't want to stop showering or go vegan. What is that word?
Friday, May 18, 2012
Julep: A Jury of My Peers
Was I overreacting? Let me lay this out for y'all.
Thursday is one of our regular sitter days - ordinarily we have a Service girl named M who comes from 2 to 6 pm. Mr. J and I had discussed moving those times back by half an hour, as 6 pm can be tricky for me on days that I take the bus. But as of yesterday, Mr. J had not yet called the Service to change our times. M is usually pretty flexible, but she wasn't coming yesterday - we had a new girl coming, whom I had not yet met although I think she came one time before.
Yesterday Mr. J scheduled his first sailing lesson of the season. If the wind picked up and he took the students out on the water, he would not be home by 6 pm. We discussed this on Wednesday evening and he said he could ask the sitter if she would mind staying a little later. I said, "If I don't know tonight, it doesn't help me. I'll have to drive tomorrow so I can get home by 6 in case she can't stay." And I drove to work on Thursday.
I spoke with Mr. J by phone at about 2 pm, and the sitter had not yet arrived but he was racing to get himself ready to leave. I hustled home and arrived at 5:55 pm. When I parked in the garage, Mr. J's truck was not there - and my child was nowhere in my house. There was no car parked in front of my house that might have been the sitter's.
Well, I thought, maybe the wind died and the lesson is already over and Mr. J has the baby with him somewhere. Or maybe the sitter didn't show up and Mr. J took the baby to his mom's since he was in such a hurry to get out the door. Wait - his mom is out of town, maybe he took the baby to his sister. Called Mr-Sis, but she hadn't talked to Mr. J all day. Okay, maybe he dropped the baby off with my cousin. Texted Cuz, but no dice.
I called and texted Mr. J repeatedly with no answer - a good indication that he was out on the river without cell service, and by extension, without the baby. There were no signs that anyone had been recently in the house. And the scheduled sitter was not our familiar M, but some chick I had never met.
At this point, I started to panic just a bit. Surely, surely, the baby was fine. But what if he wasn't? What was I supposed to do, wait three hours for Mr. J to get my messages? "Oh well, officer, I figured the baby would turn up eventually so I made dinner and watched some TV."
At 6:17, the sitter waltzed in with the baby. She had taken him for a walk - without leaving any kind of note - because Mr. J had told her that I would probably not arrive home until closer to 6:30. Now Mr. J gets dinged for that part ... I had told him the night before that I would drive so I could get home by 6, and he should know as well as you girls do that if I say that I am going to be home by 6 pm, I am not going to roll in 30 minutes later. The sitter gets a little ding too - regardless of what time she thought I would get home, probably not a great idea to leave the house with the child and leave no note at all. What if I came home an hour early?
But I recognize that these two small missteps only became a major concern when combined. I didn't really get ticked off until Mr. J came home and said that he was sorry I got upset, but really, it was my own fault because I had overreacted. I believe his exact words were, "You are a little too quick to push the panic button."
So I ask you girls: do you think that I was unreasonable to be scared and upset?
Thursday is one of our regular sitter days - ordinarily we have a Service girl named M who comes from 2 to 6 pm. Mr. J and I had discussed moving those times back by half an hour, as 6 pm can be tricky for me on days that I take the bus. But as of yesterday, Mr. J had not yet called the Service to change our times. M is usually pretty flexible, but she wasn't coming yesterday - we had a new girl coming, whom I had not yet met although I think she came one time before.
Yesterday Mr. J scheduled his first sailing lesson of the season. If the wind picked up and he took the students out on the water, he would not be home by 6 pm. We discussed this on Wednesday evening and he said he could ask the sitter if she would mind staying a little later. I said, "If I don't know tonight, it doesn't help me. I'll have to drive tomorrow so I can get home by 6 in case she can't stay." And I drove to work on Thursday.
I spoke with Mr. J by phone at about 2 pm, and the sitter had not yet arrived but he was racing to get himself ready to leave. I hustled home and arrived at 5:55 pm. When I parked in the garage, Mr. J's truck was not there - and my child was nowhere in my house. There was no car parked in front of my house that might have been the sitter's.
Well, I thought, maybe the wind died and the lesson is already over and Mr. J has the baby with him somewhere. Or maybe the sitter didn't show up and Mr. J took the baby to his mom's since he was in such a hurry to get out the door. Wait - his mom is out of town, maybe he took the baby to his sister. Called Mr-Sis, but she hadn't talked to Mr. J all day. Okay, maybe he dropped the baby off with my cousin. Texted Cuz, but no dice.
I called and texted Mr. J repeatedly with no answer - a good indication that he was out on the river without cell service, and by extension, without the baby. There were no signs that anyone had been recently in the house. And the scheduled sitter was not our familiar M, but some chick I had never met.
At this point, I started to panic just a bit. Surely, surely, the baby was fine. But what if he wasn't? What was I supposed to do, wait three hours for Mr. J to get my messages? "Oh well, officer, I figured the baby would turn up eventually so I made dinner and watched some TV."
At 6:17, the sitter waltzed in with the baby. She had taken him for a walk - without leaving any kind of note - because Mr. J had told her that I would probably not arrive home until closer to 6:30. Now Mr. J gets dinged for that part ... I had told him the night before that I would drive so I could get home by 6, and he should know as well as you girls do that if I say that I am going to be home by 6 pm, I am not going to roll in 30 minutes later. The sitter gets a little ding too - regardless of what time she thought I would get home, probably not a great idea to leave the house with the child and leave no note at all. What if I came home an hour early?
But I recognize that these two small missteps only became a major concern when combined. I didn't really get ticked off until Mr. J came home and said that he was sorry I got upset, but really, it was my own fault because I had overreacted. I believe his exact words were, "You are a little too quick to push the panic button."
So I ask you girls: do you think that I was unreasonable to be scared and upset?
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