Here are some Fun Sink vignettes over the past few months, for posterity’s sake:
Ole Miss:
Early in the fall, before my surgery, we did a few college visits for Eldest. We looked at Sewanee, Georgia, Emory, and Ole Miss. She liked some more than others, but nothing really stood out. Middle, however, LOVED Ole Miss. We did the big tailgating thing and went to a game, and we toured the dorms and saw how cute they’re decorated. Some hometown friends, and our Memphis cousins, joined us, and it was really fun. Middle loved all of it, including the precious town of Oxford and all the adorable little shops. She really felt that she fit there, and says she wants to go. She’s in 8th grade, so it could still change, but she really liked it and it’s fun to talk about her going there.
Fun Sink did not join us on our trip to Memphis and Oxford. She had planned a couples’ weekend, which turned into a girls’ weekend when one of the husbands turned out to be a Trump supporter and Fun Sink and the other wives couldn’t be around someone they disagreed with. We discussed this at my SIL’s vegan Shabbat dinner that weekend. My FIL told the story as if Fun Sink was such a badass for not being able to be around a longtime friend that she disagrees with politically. Everyone around the table was like, “Isn’t it TERRIBLE that that man let politics get in the way of friendship?” It sounded to me like it was Fun Sink and her group of judgy old biddies who let politics get in the way, and kicked out the husband with the offending opinions (and all the other husbands, too, because the one husband didn’t believe the right way for Fun Sink). These are people they travel with internationally every year and have been friends with forever; not sure how this bodes for future trips. Anyway, it seemed to me it was on Fun Sink, not on the person who was kicked out for his dissenting beliefs, and I actually didn’t think it was so hilarious and badass of her. I thought it pretty much showed Fun Sink’s textbook intolerance and belief that she knows better than everyone else, and she should be able to tell everyone what to believe.
So anyway, Fun Sink wasn’t part of the college tour or football game. She didn’t experience Oxford, or the fabulous game day at Ole Miss.
Meanwhile, Middle really is committed to the idea of going there, and she’s excited about it. At Thanksgiving, someone asked us about the college visits, and Middle said she wants to go to Ole Miss. Fun Sink immediately dismissed her and said, “No. You’re not going there.” Fun Sink thinks there aren’t enough Jews there, and she actually thinks SHE has the authority to tell Middle “no” about any life choice that is up to OUR IMMEDIATE FAMILY AND NO ONE ELSE to make. Fun Sink told Middle no! About where she wants to go to college!
I was really upset about it at the time, because it’s fun to talk about Ole Miss with Middle. I didn’t want Fun Sink to be able to take that away. I didn’t want her to divide the family on this issue that is five years away and may or may not even happen. Now, we can’t joke about Ole Miss in front of Fun Sink, because she has said “no,” and we all know where she stands so now it has to be a taboo subject. Fun Sink made it taboo. As I said, we’re five years out from this. It doesn’t mean she has to go there, but it’s a fun thing to talk about. It was fun to give her an Ole Miss sweater and some other swag for Christmas. How dare Fun Sink try to take away the fun of talking about it by saying “no, you’re not going there”? How dare Fun Sink crush my child’s dreams? Who does she think she is? Middle can go wherever she wants, but now Fun Sink has made it a competition, and turned a Middle’s life decision into another way to disappoint her, or make her happy, depending on the choice. To that, I say no. Fun Sink’s guilt train over people’s life choices stops here.
I knew the next way Fun Sink would try to exert control would be through the college selection process. I just didn’t expect Middle to have the controversial choice as an 8th grader. Not sure where Eldest will end up, but I’m sure Fun Sink has thoughts…and she can stuff them where the sun doesn’t shine.
Mama Mia:
Fun Sink took the girls to see Mama Mia, and she took them to lunch first. Somehow Fun Sink has friends…I don’t know how they tolerate her, and I’m actually baffled by who would choose to hang out with her in their spare time, but anyway she has the girlfriends she travels with who kicked out the Trump supporting husband, and she also has a group of retired teachers she hangs out with…some of whom are actually nice. I don’t understand. The teachers are who she has Broadway Series tickets with, and they were the ones at this lunch before the show.
At lunch, Eldest told the story of how, when she was in 8th grade, there was a regular substitute teacher named Mrs. S, who she had a run-in with. Eldest got tickled and couldn’t stop laughing in class. Mrs. S asked her if she needed to go into the hallway to collect herself, but she didn’t really mean it or want Eldest to go into the hallway, but Eldest took the opportunity to go into the hallway anyway. I think that’s the story: a classic tale of a teenage girl giggling too much and a substitute being annoyed. It’s a tale as old as time.
Well…Fun Sink was APPALLED that one of her grandchildren would act this way. She said, “I don’t know WHERE these girls GET THIS BEHAVIOR, but it is DEFINITELY not from MY SIDE. Scott would NEVER act that way in class. I just don’t know where this comes from.”
Hmmmm…where could it possibly come from? I think we all know the implication here. Props to Youngest for rushing home to tell me this story, and being appropriately outraged. Fun Sink and family have NEVER said my kids looked like or acted like me, unless they want to attribute something bad to me. Well, I’ll take it. I don’t mind being the one contributing a little bit of mischief and insouciance to their boring ass gene pool. You’re welcome, Fun Sink. Also, I know you don’t want to admit it, but THEY LOOK LIKE ME, TOO.
Chemo:
So, as y’all know, the chemo isn’t terrible. It’s only four rounds of preventative chemo. I’ve got three behind me. I’m wearing a cold cap to preserve some hair. It could be A LOT worse.
Also, the chemo sucks. There are days when I lie there and don’t want to move. There are days when answering a text feels like too much. I’ve missed Christmas parties and fun times with friends because I feel bad, or because I have to stay out of crowds to protect my immune system so I don’t go to the hospital. I ended up there once and don’t want to go back. It CRUSHES me to miss out on fun with my friends. I know I’m not a lot of fun to my kids right now on their Christmas break. I did make Christmas happen…barely. I had a treatment on the 23rd and pushed through Christmas, then crashed yesterday.
I’m not sure Fun Sink understands any of this.
Most people, when I say I can’t come to something, understand. They don’t ask questions or say, “but…but…but…” Fun Sink, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to get it.
She wanted to plan a Hanukkah party for the 26th. I knew it would be a bad day for me because of the treatment on the 23rd. The bad days kick in a couple of days later. This is my third round; I know the drill by now. I’ll need to rest and do nothing for a few days, I’ll turn a corner over the weekend and be able to function halfway, but I still won’t feel great into next week. So when she said, “Let’s celebrate Hanukkah on the 26th,” I told her Scott and the kids can go, but I probably won’t feel like it. She said, “I really want you to be there. We’ll do the 27th, then.”
She didn’t bother to ask if the 27th was any better for me; she just planned it for the 27th (today), but I’m not going. She can plan whatever she wants, but I DO NOT FEEL WELL. I also don’t actually give a shit about Hanukkah. I made the Christmas magic happen and almost killed myself doing it. Now I’m resting, and most people understand that. I guess maybe she saw me smiling and faking it through Thanksgiving, so she assumes I’m just fine and it’s not a big deal, but it IS, actually, a big deal. If she had ever bothered to get to know me, she’d know that of course I’m going to fake it and smile my way through and say everything’s OK. How does she not know this about me after 18 years of being married to her son? My family manages to know it and see it. My cousin threw a Christmas PJ party at his new house yesterday, and when I declined the invitation, guess what: everyone understood. He saw me faking it through Christmas Eve, and he believed me when I told him the crash was coming. There were no questions, there was no no “but…but…but…”, there were no attempts to change the party to the next day, or make me feel bad for not being able to go.
Of course I don’t really even want to go to the party. It just feels like she doesn’t understand how hard this is; she doesn’t get that it’s not business as usual. I do know that I can’t expect people to know I really feel bad if I smile and fake my way through it. I guess I sort of do expect close family members to know me that well, and to respect my answer and show some understanding that I might not be able to do everything I normally do right now. She’s the only one in my life who doesn’t seem to get it. She expects me to be totally normal and able to fulfill the usual obligations. Not this time, Fun Sink.
…
Also…this is a weird one, but also classic Fun Sink. Last week, at the Shabbat dinner I skipped, Fun Sink informed my husband that GiGi (his grandmother) doesn’t know about me doing chemo. Husband asked why not, and Fun Sink smugly said, “I didn’t think it was my place to tell her.”
This classic, smug Fun Sink response actually fills me with RAGE. I get it if they don’t want to tell Grandma because she’s 99 and she’ll worry or be upset, but HOW DARE Fun Sink put it on me, like it’s “my place” to tell the family, and not “her place.” If we’re not worrying Grandma, ok. Tell me that up front and I won’t tell her—although I generally disagree with keeping upsetting information from adult family members, because it’s incredibly patronizing. Still, Fun Sink could make the case for not worrying Grandma at age 99. If that’s the plan, TELL ME UP FRONT. Don’t wait until I’m six weeks into chemo and then whisper to my husband when I’m not around that Grandma doesn’t know anything about it because it’s not Fun Sink’s “place.” In a family that presumably loves each other, OF COURSE it’s the place of anybody who knows something to tell the other people who presumably love the person that the good or bad thing is happening to. It’s not gossip. It’s family.
Here’s how families work: if you talk to someone in the family, you tell them the good and bad news. This goes for joyful news, like new babies, or sad news, like cancer. It’s how families work. I’m not sure how my extended family found out about cancer and chemo, but I’m assuming my aunt told them, and I’m GRATEFUL to her for it, because telling people was actually the hardest part. Her telling the family was actually a MERCY to me, something Fun Sink would know nothing about. My aunt told them the bad news, and they were all able to reach out in their own ways to show they cared, because everyone had all the information and there were no secrets. There was no smug, patronizing, faux-humble, “well it’s really not my place to tell.”
I guess Grandma just thinks I’m a big baby who hasn’t gotten over the surgery I had on Oct 3, and that’s why I can’t come to anything anymore.
Fun Sink has always gatekept information about people in the family. She would never tell about a pregnancy, or medical condition, a move, or other news, because it “wasn’t her place” and she is just a pious Jewish woman who does not gossip, according to the Law and the Prophets. I think this is her excuse, and really she is controlling who knows what information just like she tries to control everything else, but how dare she do it under the guise of it “not being her place”? She wants to be the one controlling and disseminating the information. Nothing passes to the rest of the family that doesn’t go through her first, and she’s the one who determines if it’s worth telling or if it will remain a secret kept by her.
I think she doesn’t want Grandma to know because she’s doesn’t want to have to listen to Grandma worrying about me, or caring how I am. What if Grandma started feeling a little too sorry for me, and Fun Sink had to listen to it? I have to wonder what the rest of the family knows or doesn’t know about my treatment. She probably doesn’t want me getting too much attention or sympathy from this, so she tells herself it’s “not her place” to talk about it.
As if there has ever, in her whole life, been ANYTHING that she didn’t feel it was her place to comment on, have an opinion on, or meddle in. “Not my place” rings pretty hollow when you’re a nosy old busybody who wants to control every aspect of everyone’s lives, and you’re not happy unless everyone is listening to your advice, deferring to your opinions, practicing religion the way you think is best, eating exactly what you tell them to, going to college where you think they should, spacing the births of children out the way you did, and voting the way you say…but go ahead and keep telling yourself it’s “not your place” to share news within the family.
Christmas Salad.
Speaking of how normal families operate, my cousin Elizabeth texted me on Christmas Day. She was supposed to bring a green salad to our cousin Andy’s house, and she realized the lettuce she got had gone bad, and everyplace selling lettuce was closed. She wondered if I had any lettuce.
Now, I know we all know how super dysfunctional my family is, and how I wasn’t raised right, so I can’t help it…but can we all just pause for a moment to recognize how NORMAL this interaction is? A holiday emergency arises. A cousin reaches out for help. Another cousin checks her fridge and finds lettuce that isn’t horrible, and she brings that lettuce for her cousin. The cousin picks through the not-horrible lettuce for the green salad. There’s no judgement, no thinking less of anyone for the crime of their lettuce going bad, no reverse judgement that the not-horrible lettuce should have been fresher, or that we should all have fresh lettuce on hand at all times, and if not, we’re failures. Lettuce going bad on Christmas could happen to anyone. Families have each other’s backs. Christmas is saved!
Compare that to the dynamic in Fun Sink’s family. First of all, she won’t let anyone bring anything, so no one would be bringing a green salad except her. If she had the unfortunate experience of finding her lettuce to be bad, she would NEVER admit it. She would never ask for help. She would rather not serve a green salad than ask someone else for lettuce. She would rather pretend there was never going to be a salad in the first place, than admit her lettuce went bad and ask for help.
She created this toxic atmosphere. When she’s too old to host, and there’s a new, benevolent matriarch in charge—and, make no mistake, that day is coming—it’s going to be a new era of democracy at the buffet table, and she’s going to HATE it.
