Julep: To Scout Camp ... or not

 As originally planned, the Julep Family Summer Schedule had the Bear spending nine days camping with the Boy Scouts in upstate New York over the 4th of July. He and the other boys his age moved up to the "big Scouts" in March. Every year the troop takes a really cool week-long adventure to one of the many, many amazing Scout reservations around the country, and Mr. J and I were excited for the Bear to take part. 

As y'all know, Bear went to sleepaway camp for 2 weeks in North Carolina last year, and he managed the "away from home" part just fine. As an introvert, though, he was pretty tired of other people by the second half of the second week. He didn't talk to any of us for 72 hours after he got home. So I thought this nine-day trip was going to be perfect ... until I went to the mandatory parents' meeting on Monday night and realized that only one other boy from his grade was going. That boy has an older brother who is in the year ahead of Bear.

I hate for him to miss out on this trip, but as I sat in the parents meeting and thought - this won't go well. The one other kid from his grade is, if you'll pardon my French, a real lickass. He tags along after his brother and his brother is a jerk. 

There are a couple of good eggs in the class above Bear and he gets along with them well. He also gets along fine with the older boys in the troop ... just as he did earlier in June with Horse's boys out in Colorado. But since he was in kindergarten and went to summer care at St Somewhere, he's had conflict with a couple boys in particular in that grade. 

My current working theory is, those boys are mostly older brothers. They are used to bossing younger boys around, and they like to assert their authorit-ah. Well, that does not work with my kid. Bear bends the knee to nobody. He's also not socially adept enough to recognize that they are messing with him and walk away before it gets ugly.

Mr. J and I really don't want the Bear to sour on Scouts this early. So now we are re-planning the next couple of weeks. And by we, of course, I mean I.

WWJD?

** I started this post days and days ago. I honestly can't remember what more I was planning, so I'm popping it up now and moving on to the next one.

Last week we took a family vacation to Colorado. Good times had by all, though it was a little on the soggy side. We got to spend 3 days with my good friend Horses and his family, which was lovely. He continues to be his conservative non-MAGA-nut Oxford-shirt-wearing self, and his wife is still a crunchy granola earth lady, which is funny to see but they are evidently still very happy together. Only two of their three boys (ages 15 and 13) were home during our stay, but both of them were so sweet and kind to my tweenage children, it's clear that they are being raised right.

We had also planned to spend a night or two with one of Mr. J's oldest friends, Books, who lives in Colorado Springs. I had told her months in advance that we were coming and what the dates were ... but I discovered the week beforehand that Mr. J had failed to have any follow-up conversations with her, even though he had consistently assured me that we would stay at their house. Turned out that they were not receiving guests. Now, these folks did spend two nights at our house less than a year ago, but apparently their house is very small and she works from home. et cetera. Sure, fine, whatever. There are hotels in Colorado Springs, it's fine. Books did want our families to get together one evening, though. They didn't invite us to the house for dinner - they picked a (fairly pricy) restaurant. Separate checks, natch. 

It's been a long time since she lived in Louisville; apparently the Southern hospitality has worn off. I promise I don't mean any of this b!tchy. 

Books has a daughter who is 2 years older than my Punkin. They hit it off when the family came to Louisville last year, and once again got on like a house afire on this trip. Punkin went back to their house after dinner so they could get swimsuits and Books's Daughter came and swam at the hotel pool for a while and Books caught up with Mr. J. Books is considering returning to the Louisville area in the next year - her job is now fully remote, Colorado is really expensive, she still has family here, and also Books's Daughter had a really hard time in school last year. Colorado Springs is very evangelical, and although Mr J and Books grew up attending Catholic school together, their family is not religious at all. Apparently BD was subjected to a lot of bullying last year.

Punkin has gotten very into emailing her people (so far, my mom, my sister, and her school-year babysittter) -- and at first I thought it would be so sweet if Punkin and BD stayed in touch by email. But after the first conversation with Punkin, I have failed to follow up with Books to get contact information for BD. The fact is, I am hesitant. 

While BD and Punkin were at the house, BD was showing off her room and told Punkin a particular item was a gift from her ex-girlfriend. BD then told Punkin that she is "bi." Punkin brought this up to me at breakfast the next morning with some anxiety ... she asked me if I thought it was OK for people to be bi, and I told her that of course it's OK, some people are made differently and God knows what He's doing when He makes people even when He doesn't use the standard pattern. For instance, one of Horses's boys is deaf. There's nothing wrong about being deaf and there's nothing wrong about being gay or bisexual. 

That said ... I give a side-eye to a 12 year old who (1) already has "ex-girlfriends" and (2) wants to tell my 10 year old about them. What's this kid processing? 

 

Twinkle: Evading the Cookie Police

 Youngest and I got smarter tonight.

We all came in late from seeing the Little Mermaid. Youngest and I lingered in the lobby while everyone else went upstairs on the elevator (mostly because I didn’t want to be on an elevator with Fun Sink.)

Youngest noticed the cookies all packaged up, and she felt she’d had too many Milk Duds at the movie so cookies weren’t a good idea, but she thought they might be nice to bring everyone for the road trip tomorrow. We grabbed some, put them in my pockets, and headed upstairs to the cousins room. 

Fun Sink was ready and waiting on the other side of the door. She came in immediately when she heard us come in, thinking she would bust us. Sorry, Fun Sink, nothing to see here. She left, then came back a couple minutes later. Still nothing to see. 

I was just saying goodnight to my kids at that point, and she found another reason to come in, a hairbrush or something. Still nothing to see. I discreetly put the cookies behind the tv and told the kids they were for the drive home. 

Imagine being that person, the person who thinks she is the cookie police. It must be miserable.

Twinkle: Sock Woes

My MIL loves to talk about how little my SIL is. It’s a major topic of discussion, and it’s weird. We can all see that she’s short. The family talks about it so much that my niece aspires to be little just like her mom, because being little is weirdly glorified. My niece is a very cute but normal-sized 8th grader, but she’s always talking about how little she is. It’s sweet that she wants to be just like her mom (although the family would probably think that part of it was weird since they don’t seem to care about the bond between mothers and their children). I just think it’s weird that in this family, my SIL has made being a short person her whole personality, and everyone else treats it like it’s just the ultimate quality that everyone wants and only my SIL has. Who would want to be that weirdly small? Why is something that is immutable, that you can’t choose or change about yourself, the ultimate quality to care about?

We have to relive the moment years ago when my SIL was on a plane and the flight attendant referred to her husband as her “daddy.” There was the time she played softball and was the smallest one. Every time there’s something tiny, my MIL has to compare it to my SIL. We have to relive these stories again and again. My BIL extols the tininess of her feet. Meanwhile everyone acts like my kids are giants when they’re just normal height. This family talks about height, and who is tall and who is short, all the time. And the subtext is always that short is better. No wonder my niece aspires to it.

My feet are actually smaller than my SIL’s and my neice’s, but I have never made a big deal about it because I’m not weird. Even though for 16 years I’ve been hearing about how small SIL’s feet are.

So this morning my niece complemented my shoes and I thanked her but mentioned my ankle socks didn’t come up high enough in the back and I was afraid my shoes would rub agains the back of my ankles. My niece said she had some socks that would come up higher and they’d “definitely fit me because [she] wears a 7.” She said this as if my feet would obviously be bigger than hers, but I wear a 6.

I put on the socks. The heel is halfway up the back of my leg and the socks look ridiculous, because of the uncomfortable truth that my feet are smaller than my SIL’s and neice’s. I’m grateful because now my shoes won’t rub up against my ankles, but it’s just annoying. In a normal family, we could all laugh at the weird way my socks are too big, but in this family we can’t because my SIL is the only one who’s allowed to have small feet and hers have to be the smallest out of everyone’s, even though they’re not. If the tables were turned and she were the one wearing socks that were too big, we would never hear the end of it and my MIL would have to point it out and laugh about it all day and for the rest of our lives. “Remember those socks that [SIL] wore in St. Louis?” We would never hear the end of it. I wish I were exaggerating. It is exactly the stupid sort of thing they would make a big deal about, if it were my SIL.

I know it’s such a dumb thing to notice or complain about. This family is just so weird. Everything is backwards. They don’t value mothers but they do value my SIL’s smallness, above all else. 

Oh and my niece told a story about the ride here. She said Fun Sink gave my FIL a “savage burn.” They were going over a bridge that said “weight limit” and Fun Sink said FIL better get out of the car. I actually think that is a mean thing to say. Also my FIL is really a small man; no one could ever accuse him of being fat. He eats really, really healthy, to an annoying degree. It’s just like Fun Sink to take a cheap shot that’s actually mean, and not even true, and think she’s making a funny joke.

She is just an unhappy person. I know this sock thing is not my strongest argument against my family. I know socks are boring. My point is it’s part of a weird pattern of commenting on people’s sizes. 

Twinkle: St. Louis Blues (But Not Really)

In the name of trying to smooth things over with my husband’s family, I agreed to go to St. Louis. It’s a major inconvenience and it’s kind of awkward with my in-laws, but I am trying. I’m really trying.

The day went well overall. Fun Sink really wanted us to go tour some Anheuser-Busch farm, but I didn’t want to support it because of the whole Bud Light thing. Sorry not sorry, but Dylan Mulvaney mocks women and I just didn’t want to support it. She kept pushing and pushing us to go, but we held firm and told her to go without us. She waited for us at the hotel, thinking she could strong-arm us, but we turned the car around when we saw their car at the hotel. We drove to Wash U to walk around. 

Dinner at a bbq place was fine. The kids went for a night swim. All was going well. And then I really messed up, y’all. I messed up big time, and she is not happy. 

It all started when I walked down to the lobby of this Hampton Inn to get a shower cap, and saw that it was “cookie hour.” I grabbed a couple of cookies for my husband, and thought about taking some to the kids, but I knew Fun Sink wouldn’t like that, so I didn’t do it. Because I’m trying here. 

When I got back upstairs, my youngest was in my room (visiting from the cousins’ room down the hall). I said, “Hey—come with me and I’ll take you somewhere fun.” And we went to cookie hour. I thought it would be our little secret.

We sat in the lobby while she ate her cookie and gave me sage advice about not worrying so much what Fun Sink thinks. When it was time to go upstairs, she wanted to grab cookies to take to everyone. She wanted to return to the cousins’ room a hero, bearing cookies for all. How could I say no?

I carried the cookies upstairs discreetly. When we got to the room I handed them to Youngest and she passed them out to all the cousins, who were delighted. Everybody was having fun and eating cookies and it was just a cute moment and a nice memory.

Until Fun Sink walked in.

She smelled the joy and cookies a mile away and came from her adjoining room. She immediately surmised the situation, and she gave me the most DISGUSTED look. Like just absolute disgust. It was hands down the dirtiest look I have ever received. Pure disgust, and she was not trying to hide it. 

I quickly kissed my kids and the cousins goodnight and got out, laughing all the way down the hall.

A few minutes later Youngest came down the hall knocking. She said Fun Sink gave her a disgusted dirty look, too. Youngest just shrugged and threw up her hands, and said, “It was cookie hour.”

It’s just funny at the point. Who is she to say when my kids can and can’t eat cookies? She’s no one, that’s who. She is not the ultimate authority, and that’s what she hates. It kills her that she’s not their mom. She also hates that I being fun and joy and all the kids love me. She hates that I can make decisions about my kids that she disagrees with, and she can’t do anything about it. 

She’s really missing out on fun and sweet memories with her family, because she can’t just lighten up. She’s missing out on a relationship with me, too. I’m sure she saw this as me trying to undermine her (I found out later that my FIL wanted to take the kids to cookie hour, but she vetoed it.) She looks for the worst, she assumes bad intentions from me. It’s her loss. 

St. Louis is actually sort of fun. I get to be with my kids and my niece and nephew, and we’re having fun! And I’ve once again angered Fun Sink by simply existing.