The Tennessee cousins are in town this weekend, and we spent the morning at the new Puttshack. Now all the cousins are walking around the mall shopping for HoCo dresses for Cousin S and Eldest.
Mr. Twinkle and I were the ones who planned this outing, so we arrived at Puttshack a little early to get everyone checked in. Since Eldest can drive now, she brought a carload of sisters a few minutes later, and they were naturally the last to arrive. Cousin S said, “It’s Ok that they’re a little late. My mom is already the disappointment of the family today. [Fun Sink] was annoyed because she didn’t get to [great grandma’s] house early enough this morning.”
Ok. Disappointment of the family. Noted. At least it’s not me, for once.
We played our two 9-hole rounds, then headed to lunch at Chicken Salad Chick, where I completely forgot about the rule where you can’t mix chicken and cheese. Youngest was eating her PB&J and mac, and wanted to taste my chicken salad sandwich, so I handed it to her without even thinking. She liked it and asked for another bite, so I said she could keep half of the sandwich. It did not even register that she was eating mac and cheese. I just don’t think about these ridiculous rules anymore. Mr. Twinkle probably noticed but, mercifully, did not correct me. I didn’t even think about it until later when Fun Sink tried to share a bite of her sandwich with Cousin E, who had also eaten mac and would not take a bite, and it got awkward. He didn’t know what to do, because apparently they are really strict about these chicken and cheese rules. Fun Sink offered the bite. SIL immediately said “No,” but Fun Sink kept forcing it, saying, “He’s finished with his mac. He’s finished.” He was stuck between listening to his mom and not offending Fun Sink. It went back and forth like this, with Cousin S helpfully announcing that they don’t mix chicken and cheese, and finally Mr. Twinkle said to his mother, “I think they have slightly different rules than we do.” At which point she finally dropped it after pushing hard for him to take the bite. Another case of her thinking she knows what’s best, and wanting to enforce her specific rules on everyone else. SIL’s family is mostly vegan, so this issue rarely comes up. It’s a weird feeling, to be on the side of the vegans, but I have to defer to the actual mother about dietary rules. If SIL said no, the answer is no. Fun Sink is NOT THEIR MOM.
At lunch, the cousins were talking about all their activities. Cousin S was talking about how her mom, her dad, and her brother all like to play sports, but she’s a dancer. She said her mom wanted her to be a softball player, but she’s a dancer and therefore the “disappointment of the family.” I was like, “There are no disappointments in this family.” She was laughing, but she went on to say that her mother was a softball player, but Fun Sink wanted her to be a dancer, so they’re both the disappointments of their families. Then they fist-bumped. I reiterated, “There are no disappointments in this family; every person is a valued member, with his or her own strengths and interests,” but I knew it was really just adding to the joke, because I know Fun Sink doesn’t value me at all, and she assigns value based on how much each person is or isn’t living up to her standards. Apparently I’m not the only one who she makes feel like a disappointment. She does it so much that SIL’s family has actually turned it into a joke.
The evolution of the phrase “disappointment of the family” isn’t hard to discern. Fun Sink has that effect on people: she makes you feel like a loser and a failure, and like your interests are dumb. She doesn’t ask follow up questions about interests or beliefs, and when anyone falls short, she lets them know it. My theory is that it has become a joke in their family, because Fun Sink is perpetually disappointed in everyone all the time, so they choose to laugh about it. It’s the only way to neutralize Fun Sink: not caring about what she thinks, and turning minor family inconveniences into a joke. Late walking out the door? Disappointment of the family. Forgot to run the dishwasher? Disappointment of the family. Didn’t pack your baseball uniform/ballet slippers? D of the F.
Mr. Twinkle and I are headed to the UK game, and the girls are going shopping with Fun Sink. Cousin S said, “Aunt Twinkle…you have to help me with [Fun Sink]. You have to have my back and help her see that backless HoCo dresses aren’t immodest.” I love that girl so much. I said, “S, I always have you back about everything!” But unfortunately I’m missing the shopping excursion, and if Fun Sink has her way, Cousin S will show up at HoCo looking like a Jewish Laura Ingalls Wilder. I’ll be the one purchasing Eldest’s HoCo dress, so Fun Sink can suck it where that is concerned. I honestly believe Fun Sink goes on these shopping trips with them so she can control what they wear. I would never want any of them to wear something slutty, but I’ll be the judge of what’s appropriate on my own children, thank you very much, Fun Sink. We all know who the real D of the F is, and the joke’s on Fun Sink, because not caring what she thinks has freed me.
