Twinkle: Same Auld Lang Syne

 Our friends have a bar mitzvah for their son coming up. They are very close friends, and I volunteered to do the gift bags for out of towners. I have to do 30 bags and I’m also sending a child to college next week, and the bags are a major undertaking. Also, I have fun with this sort of thing, so I’m having fun with the bags. I’ve known about this for a year so I’ve planned for it.

I’ve worked really hard on these bags and have put a lot of thought into them. Everyone gets basic stuff like a salty snack, a Rice Krispy treat, a granola bar, Diet Coke, water, etc., but I also tried to do something special. I ordered Chips Cookies and a mini Sissy Cake for each, and each Sissy Cake box will bear a sticker with the logo for the event. I have little plastic containers, each with twelve compartments, with a variety of candy in the color palette of the event, and I ordered stickers with the logo to put on each container. I’ve worked really hard on them, and I wanted them to be great. They are great. 

SIL texted me last week to see if I needed any help with them. I didn’t. But because I am sensitive to the way I have been treated in this family, I said, “I’d love your help, but I’ve already done everything for the bags.” She offered to Venmo me for part of the bags. I accepted because I was trying to be thoughtful and include her. I never want to make anyone feel the way Fun Sink makes me feel. She Venmoed my husband, not me (thanks, bitch), and I immediately let the our friend know that SIL was part of the bags, so that she would know to thank her. Because I’m gracious.

I never wanted her money or needed her help, but I wanted her to feel like she was part of things, and like she had a job too.

Tonight MIL mentioned that SIL already had a job. She’s doing baskets for the bathrooms (which, incidentally, is my job at every school fundraiser and I CRUSH it every time and everybody always talks about it because I always put airplane bottles of Fireball in them). There will be no Fireball in these. Trust.

So, my question is, if SIL already had a job, why did she need to help me with mine? Does this family think I’m incompetent? Poor? Unable to complete basic tasks that I have committed to? Why did I take her $200 (of which I’ll never personally see a penny)? Why did I take the time to let the hostess know she was part of the bags? Why did she need to be part of the bags? Why does no one trust me to do the thing I’m supposed to do? Can I just have my task, without it being her task too, when she already has a task?

So now it will be, “Didn’t L****** (and Twinkle) do an AMAZING job on the bags? Oh, and L******’s bathroom baskets were just perfect.” She had a job. I had a job. Why did she have to take mine? I don’t want to be someone who cares about who gets the credit—this is something Fun Sink cares about deeply, and it’s unattractive and downright gross. I really was doing the bags because I care about the bar mitzvah boy, not for the glory. But this feels like stolen valor.

It happens every time. Something comes up, and against my better judgment I react the way I would in my own family, where everything is safe, and people trust each other to do the tasks they say they’ll do. I take the bait every time, and act in a way that feels normal, in a way that doesn’t make people feel excluded the way I have been excluded. And then it bites me. Every. Single. Time.

Twinkle: Recent Vignettes

A few vignettes.

Y’all have heard this one but I’m recording it for posterity because it is just so weird:

We were in Chicago for a family wedding, and on one of the nights we went to someone’s house for dinner—friends my in-laws, and their kids who grew up with my husband, and grandkids were all there.

They cooked out hamburgers, etc. After dinner I was sitting at the kitchen island talking to everyone, and there was a bowl of chips in the middle of the island that everyone was still snacking on. The hostess was about to clear away the chips but noticed people were still eating them and left them. A few minutes later Fun Sink helpfully came to take the chips away—there was no booze at this party so she probably relished talking away what little joy people were having. The hostess said, “Oh, leave those out—I think people are still eating them.” Fun Sink said, “Oh, are they?” and made a big show of putting the bowl right in front of me.

Why is she such a bitch? I really don’t care and I think it’s funny. We laughed about it on the way home. But, like, wtf? Everyone was eating the chips. They were in the middle. I was not tucking into a huge bowl of chips by myself after the meal. The bowl was empty at the end of the night, but you best believe I didn’t touch another one after that incident. Why does she hate me? 

—

That same trip we invited my MIL to come shopping with us. Eldest needed to shop for rush and so we thought it would be fun to hit the Chicago stores, and we naturally figured Fun Sink would want to be part of it. She was really weird and cagey about it and made up a weird excuse about why she couldn’t go. She has been super weird about rush, too. She said something to Eldest about, “What do you need for that rush thing?” My kids call her out in ways I never could. Eldest said, “What do you mean, ‘that rush thing’? Aunt L****** was in a sorority. You know what rush is.”

—

Fun Sink’s mom died a week shy of 101, which is really sad and I would never wish it on anyone, but she’s still finding ways to be mean, even at her most vulnerable.

We were over at the grandma’s house, dividing up family keepsakes. I’m the only one taking heirlooms, by the way. No one else wanted a sterling silver button hook from the 1800s and the platter and bowl from my husband’s grandmother’s third great grandmother. We also inherited all the large framed Olan Mills portraits of my husband from 1980. I guess Fun Sink didnt’t want these, so I have become their custodian, and the decor in my house doesn’t have the wood paneling and shag carpeting that they require.

While we were there, my husband’s cousin, N, and his girlfriend, A****, were there. The girlfriend is really nice and I like her. He needs to put a ring on it because she’s basically the only friend I have in this family. The girlfriend was talking about another estate sale, that of the grandma’s best friend, in which the family sold precious things like a little framed baby picture of their mother from 1920 (way less obtrusive than the huge Olan Mills 8x10s). I actually bought this baby picture. I wasn’t going to let it go to strangers. Another thing the family sold was some embroidery that my husband’s grandmother had done, and some stained glass panels that my husband’s uncle, now deceased, had made. The person who made the stained glass was N’s father, and N had gone to the sale hoping to buy the panels but they were thousands of dollars.

I had been talking the entire day about how terrible I thought it was that the family was selling these things. I had been going on and on about the baby picture and the embroidery. My girls really loved this old lady, and they were each going to buy a teacup at the sale to remember her, but it turned out the sale was cash only so we couldn’t get the teacups. I had to scrounge for change in my car to rescue the baby picture. I made the point that, if it had been me, I would have invited the close family friends over to take a small souvenir from the sale. Fun Sink should have her mother’s embroidery. I DEFINITELY would have given N the glass his father made. I went on and on and on about it the whole day, and I was especially horrified over the baby picture. 

Fun Sink was there for all of it and knew my opinions on the matter, which is why I was surprised to hear her say, “A**** says the family really should have invited us all over to take a meaningful piece from the sale. A**** thinks that would have been the right thing to do. A**** says it was terrible that they were selling heirlooms that were meaningful to our famly.” Hey bitch, don’t you mean TWINKLE said? I mean, A**** agreed, but I had been saying it for hours!

A**** is already more accepted in this family than I ever will be. And no, she’s not even Jewish. 

—

At dinner recently, Fun Sink looked me in the eye and asked me if I knew anyone with sourdough starter. 

Um…baking bread is my thing. I make all kinds of bread all the time. I consider it an art and a science. I literally love it so much I’ve hoped that I still get to do it in heaven. I have made sourdough bread for her on multiple occasions.

So I said, “I have some. I’d love to share it with you.” And I meant it, like I always do.

Suddenly she wasn’t so interested in sourdough anymore. She made an excuse about why she didn’t want it.

Twinkle: Bizarro World

I haven’t cared too much about Fun Sink in the past few years, but today she got to me. I guess part of me still cares, and part of me can still be hurt.

My SIL is in town, so we all had to go to brunch. I wasn’t allowed to get the brunch item that I usually like to get, because it has shrimp in it. Even though I’m an adult, I’m not allowed to make that decision for myself without the kosher police being horrified, outraged, and offended by the shrimp sushi taco I would have gotten (which is, by the way, my favorite meal ever, but we must not offend the kosher police). The silver lining was that I did just go up to the bar and order my own mimosas (to keep them off my FIL’s tab), so at least there was alcohol.

My MIL is setting up for some Simchas Torah event at the synagogue this week. I don’t know what Simchas Torah is, I don’t give a shit about it, I know that whatever the setup is will be ugly and tacky, and there are a lot of other ways I’d rather spend my Sunday afternoon instead of being part of whatever it is they’re doing. Intellectually, I know all that, but it still got to me, because my MIL was inviting literally every girl at the table to come help her with it, except for me. Just like always.

She brought her boring friend with her; they had been setting up. After brunch, my SIL was going to go help them. Fun Sink was trying to get my kids to go help (they wisely opted out); she was trying to get my sweet niece to help. I was sitting right there, but it was as if I didn’t exist.

This really bothered me for several reasons. First of all, she knows that her not including me in setup for holidays and occasions is something that bothers me. She knows it, but this knowledge never changes her behavior or motivates her to include me. She knows that just the simple act of her saying, “Would you like to come help set up?” would mean the world to me, but she simply doesn’t care enough to do it. Either that, or she knows I’d accept, and she can’t have that. Second, she prides herself on including everyone and being soooooo thoughtful to invite everyone she’s ever met to any holiday event or boring dinner she throws. She thinks she’s soooooo welcoming, but she never welcomes me.

I don’t know what I did to make her hate me so much. I haven’t wasted a lot of time thinking about her in the past few years, but this got to me. It’s like I’m not even part of the family. I don’t count enough to be included in things like this. I actually burst out in tears over this in the car on the way home. It was unexpected; I don’t know where it came from. Years of cruelty, probably. Years and years of being excluded and mistreated in this bizarro world I married into, where my SIL is the gold standard and certain family friends who were in my SIL’s sorority (y’all know who) are treated more like family than I am. 

It’s always bad when my SIL comes to town, not because she’s bad per se, but because there’s lots of family togetherness and the bizarro world that I married into is exposed and laid bare. In the real world, I volunteer for lots of things, and the people I’m with allow me to use my strengths to help with whatever we’re doing. In bizarro world, I’m unwanted and excluded. In the real world, I have friends who like me and they think I’m fun to be around. In bizarro world, I’m tolerated, sort of. In the real world, I’m an important part of my family and circle of friends. In bizarro world, no one wants me around. I love my husband and my kids; I obviously would not change a thing, but when I’m in bizarro world, it makes me question everything. It messes with me. Being made to feel worthless and unwanted in a family takes its toll, after awhile. I have to think it’s deliberate on her part, because how hard would it be to say, “Would you like to come help?” 

She wants me to feel this way, which is why most days I don’t let her. It’s going to be a long week. I’m going to need my friends to remind me of who I am, and that y’all love me even though some in my own family don’t care about me at all.

Twinkle: Fun Sink Vignettes During the Past Few Months

The last few months have brought a breast cancer diagnosis, a double mastectomy, and chemo for me, and I have kept Fun Sink at arm’s length even more than usual, to protect my peace. I haven’t allowed her to take up space in my head for a long time, and I especially won’t let her now, because I don’t need her negativity. I think she cares, sort of, in her own way, that I haven’t felt well and have had a hard time, but she still can’t stop herself from being a mean, judgy old hag most of the time. 

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 husband 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. 

Twinkle: “The Disappointment of the Family”

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.

Fun Sink Is A Joyless Old Hag: Christmas In July Edition

Fun Sink is still mean and manipulative, but she lost a lot of her power over me the day I realized she’s never going to like me, and I stopped caring about it. Now I know all her tricks, so I can laugh about them while still being annoyed by them. She’s always going to be a mean, unpleasant, manipulative, nasty person, but she has been rendered mostly powerless.

This week I was annoyed by a classic Fun Sink move, and I have to record it here because Fun Sink just does not know how to play the long game. The long game here is having her children (and, in this case) grandchildren, want to spend time with her, have conversations with her, and generally let her into their lives. Incidentally, I am already playing this long game with my own children. I’m pleasant to talk to. I don’t judge every little thing they do. I’m able to laugh at irreverent things with them, because one day they will leave and live their lives, and winning the long game means that they’ll choose to come back and be around me sometimes. Fun Sink missed this memo.

Every summer, my husband speaks at this conference in Lexington, and I always go with him, stay at the hotel, and attend a dinner for spouses. Our kids usually spend this night with Fun Sink and FIL. Fun Sink planned some nice activities for them, and I was glad they got the grandparent time, because, contrary to what Fun Sink thinks of me, I’m not an evil witch who hates family. 

When I got home, Middle and Youngest filled me in on the events of the past two days. They said that Fun Sink found Eldest’s Instagram burner account and requested to be added. Eldest added her, and then Fun Sink went through all the posts, and found one about our Christmas tree. While Eldest was out practicing driving and Youngest was in the shower, she confronted Middle about it. She pulled up the post and said, “Is this your house? Do you have a Christmas tree?”

Middle felt really awkward about it and didn’t know what to say. She said, “I don’t know.” When Youngest got out of the shower, Fun Sink said, “Do you have a Christmas tree?” Youngest said, “Oh—I’ve got to go. I left something in the other room.” I haven’t asked Eldest about it. She sometimes gets dodgy when I criticize Fun Sink, so I tread lightly. (See above paragraph about the long game.)

I told them, in the future, just to own it. She knows about it. There’s no reason to deny it. Also, it’s not a crime to have a Christmas tree.

I was furious that she cornered my children and asked them about our Christmas tree. It’s the middle of July, for one thing. Also, she already knows we have a Christmas tree (we actually have one in every room). She has known for at least a year and a half, and probably longer. For her to take this opportunity to corner my children about it, at this moment, is just weird. How manipulative of her, to act like she didn’t know about it when she has known for years. Also, it’s not really their fault that they have a Christmas tree. I’m the one who made that call. Why make them feel bad about something they have no control over?

And I don’t understand her endgame. 

First of all, Eldest trusted her enough to add her to the burner account. When a teen lets you in on something like that, you don’t make waves. You don’t go around “liking” every post and making it weird; you sort of want them to forget you have access to it, so you can get some insight into their lives. You certainly don’t bring up something you saw that you disapprove of and talk to the whole family about it. It’s a huge breach of trust. It’s a great way to get yourself banned. It’s a great way to inspire a spinoff burner account to the original burner account. Have some common sense, Madam. 

Second of all, does she ever want her grandchildren to be comfortable being alone in a room with her? Because cornering and confronting them about this is a great way to get them to leave the room next time they find themselves in that situation. I guarantee you it won’t take too many times until they learn to get up and leave the room before she has a chance to bring up something she disapproves of. If the goal here is to get her grandchildren to avoid being in a room alone with her, she is crushing it. 

Third of all, is this really who Fun Sink wants to be? The grandmother who gets mad and judgy about our [checks notes] Christmas tree? I’ve got news for her: my kids like our Christmas trees, every last one of them. They like gingerbread houses and Hallmark movies and Christmas carols. They like Christmas parties, and red plaid dresses, and jingle bells, and ice skating, and Christmas shopping, and peppermint lattes, and parties with the fun, normal, happy, judgment-free side of their family, and matching family pajamas on Christmas Eve, and ALL OF IT, OK Fun Sink? One of these days they’re even going to like coming to church with me on Christmas Eve, and no amount of judgmental disapproval from her is going to change that. 

Imagine trying to take Christmas away, and believing you have that power. Her presumption that she could make them feel bad about it, like having a Christmas tree is somehow wrong, or something to hide, is just infuriating. The fact that she thinks she has that kind of power over them is laughable, actually, and so that’s what we did. We rolled our eyes and we laughed. “That is soooo Fun Sink. Classic.” And we moved on five minutes later and we didn’t give it another thought.

The tragedy for her is that, by being so nasty and controlling, she has rendered herself irrelevant. If she were a sweet grandmother, who accepted people for who they are and showed love freely to everyone, we might actually care what she thought about the Christmas trees. We might feel bad, because we wouldn’t want to hurt her. Instead, we just laugh and move past it, because she’s mean. This is another line item on the long list of things she disapproves of. She’ll never be happy even when we’re all doing what she wants, so why worry what she thinks about any of it?

She will never see that disapproving of everything and manipulating people only damages her relationships. She has already ruined her relationships with my brother-in-law and with me. Her children tolerate her because they have to. This sort of manipulative behavior will drive her grandchildren away. They will do whatever they want, and they’ll either learn how to hide it from her (Eldest and Middle), or they’ll parade it around in her face (Youngest). That’s the crux of it: people are free to make their own choices in life. The best I can do for my kids, as their mother, is to help them know right from wrong and try to make good choices for themselves. Having a Christmas tree is not a right vs. wrong choice. Where Fun Sink went wrong was losing the ability to be happy when people make choices she doesn’t like. That’s why she’ll never be happy. 

Good luck fighting against the Christmas Industrial Complex, Fun Sink. I wish her well, but I know it is a fool’s errand, because my girls love Christmas and she’ll never take it away from them. She might lose their trust if she keeps trying.

Julep: Mothers Day. Awesome.

Twinks, I can't turn away from a car crash ... I read that whole transcript. Fascinating. I couldn't help but hear Mr. Twinkle's part in his own voice. God bless that man. He has come so far from the days of the early 2000s when it comes to breaking away from the prefab person his parents intended for him to be. But the hooks are still there....

So how was Mothers Day brunch?

I got to spend the day at the track, along with - I swear to you - 50,000 other people. That's where J-Mama wanted to spend the day, so that is what we did. And normally I do enjoy the track, but not so much when it is a seething mass of humanity and we have to park 3/4 mile away from the only entrance that will take our tickets. Plus my sweet child the Bear is not fond of crowds, so in addition to navigating the sea of people I was also spending four hours managing the emotions of my overstimulated twelve-year-old.

Now I would like a day off, just for me. 

I do have to give some props though: my sweet child Bits made me a card, got her brother to sign it, and gave it to me in his presence along with the earrings she made for me. Well done, my dear. I'm not giving up on training her brother, but I so appreciate that she understood the assignment in a way that her father did not.