Twinkle: Fun Sink Declines Aid

The swimming play date is all set up, with only one potential hitch: will Bella actually get in the car and leave school camp with someone she doesn't know? (Bella's mom said that this was a problem another time, and Bella didn't end up going at all because she wouldn't leave with the other person). I prepared Fun Sink for this. I offered to meet Fun Sink at pickup time to make Bella more comfortable--after all, I see Bella a lot at school and even Bella's mom, who thinks I'm weird because of Fun Sink, admitted that Bella thinks I'm "really nice." So Bella probably trusts me a little more than she would Fun Sink, whom she has met only once, at the lunch before Mary Poppins, when both girls were too busy giggling into their Bristol mac-and-cheese to notice any of the adults present.

Of course, Fun Sink declined my offer to meet her at the school to facilitate the pickup. Even Mr. Twinkle was incredulous about that. So now I'm torn--I almost don't want Bella to go with her because I'm tired of Fun Sink's obsession with Bella, and it would be nice if Bella put her in her place. (Of course, I do want Bella to go because I want Twinklette to have a wonderful time swimming with her friend). I'm sure it'll be just my luck that Bella will go with her, and Fun Sink can once again reassure herself that I'm not a necessary part of any situation.

This is what it has come to. Competing over the whims of a four-year-old. And may I say that the competition is because of Fun Sink. I only offered to show up because I wanted to help, and I live a half a mile away from the school, and the time is convenient for me, and I don't mind because I'm a nice person and I want my child to have a fun day with her friend. But the denial of the offer just tells me that Fun Sink thinks I'm not important, and she can coax Bella into a strange car without me. Well have at it, ya crazy b*tch, and good luck. I can't wait to hear how it goes. And, rest assured, Twinklette will tell me all about it.

Twinkle: Someone Please Tell Fun Sink That Bella Is Half Muslim

Fun Sink has had the grand idea to invite Bella to the pool on Friday, which is all well and good, except that it means that I have to talk to Bella's mom about it, and Bella's mom thinks I'm weird. Because of Fun Sink. So it falls to me to coordinate the whole thing--"Hey, Bella's Mom--my mother-in-law and father-in-law would like to cordially invite Bella to the pool on Friday afternoon..." Who knows how Bella's mom feels about Bella going to the pool with a couple of strangers? I'm not sure I'd be cool with it. But I'm in the middle. It's Fun Sink's big idea and I have to arrange it--it's either that or unleash Fun Sink and her weirdness on Bella's mom, which will just make me look even worse than I already do to the mother of someone who's very important to Twinklette.

What bothers me about the whole thing is that Fun Sink is trying to force a friendship that doesn't need to be forced. Twinklette and Bella just click on some fundamental four-year-old level, and they don't need anyone pushing their friendship. I feel like Fun Sink has it in her mind that Bella is this wholesome example of Jewish girlhood, and it's just not the case. I'm a big fan of Bella's; I have absolutely nothing against her, even though I don't love dealing with her mom. Still, if she's a friend of Twinklette's, she's a friend of mine. I also like Twinklette's other school friends: the adorably named Alice, Mary Jane, Sadie, Evie...to mention a few. Why can't Fun Sink meddle with any of them? It's because she thinks Bella is the Jewish friend, and I guess Bella is. Halfway, at least. 

If anyone wants to mention the other half of Bella's ethnic origin to Fun Sink, you would be doing me a huge favor. 

Julep: follow-up

... to yesterday's post. Mr. J called at 4 pm to say that Mr-Mama wanted us to come for dinner - she had decided that she could still host everyone but would order takeout. I've had an incredibly long weekend, am facing an even longer week, and the last thing I want to do on Monday night is go straight from work to my in-laws' house. But whatever. Mr. J said that Sis's friends really wanted to meet the Bear, and far be it from me to deny his public.

So we got over there a little after 6. Mr-Sis and friends arrived just before we did, and everyone is chatting and drinking cocktails. I figured Mr-Mama had already ordered dinner. Nope. At 7:15, she decides to pull out the menu to pass around. Lady, my child is 8 months old. Do you understand the concept of bedtime? If you don't order dinner until 7:30, you've got to expect full meltdown mode for the Bear by the time the food arrives. We cannot waste away the evening entertaining you and just assume that he can hold out.

She is congenitally self-indulgent, incapable of thinking about anyone's needs that might conflict with her own wants.

Julep: kids and friends

Here's a quick hit from Mr-Mama Land. She called late last week with an invitation for a cookout on Sunday. I said, "Gee, thanks for the offer but Mr. J will be working at the Music Festival all weekend." She said, "You and Bear could come without him," at which point I was hard-pressed to say "well, we could but I really would rather stay home and eat leftovers in the quiet of my study." I said, "Sure, we can do that."

Mr-Mama explained that the reason for the cookout was because Mr-Sis's friends were in town from Chicago for the Music Festival. I assumed that Mr-Sis and friends planning to spend most of the weekend at the Festival, weren't all that interested in Sunday night's headliners, and thought it might be nice to have a casual dinner somewhere so they could sober up before turning in early and heading home to Chicago first thing Monday.

Mr-Mama called back on Saturday morning to say the cookout was off (to my secret relief). Evidently Mr-Mama had planned to have dinner at 4 pm but that wasn't early enough as Mr-Sis and friends were planning to go to the Festival on Sunday and the music started at 3:30. The friends are sticking around today and they are going with Mr-Sis on the Bourbon Trail. Mr-Mama said she really couldn't manage dinner on Monday night because she has a big golf day on Monday. But here's the weird part: she was all grumpy about it.

Leaving aside the idea that one cannot cook dinner (mostly grilling) on Monday evening because one is playing golf that day - here's what I realized from all of this. The cookout idea was generated entirely by Mr-Mama, not by Mr-Sis or her friends. Mr-Sis was trying to be polite and come up with some way to squeeze it into the weekend schedule, but it really didn't fit; Mr-Mama got cut from the agenda and she got pissy. To which I can only say: Lady, get your own friends.

These Chicago friends have spent time with the Mr-Parents in the past, but they aren't that close. I'm sure we all have a friend or two who would be sorry to miss out on seeing our parents if they came through town -- Mr-Sis has a college roommate who was teasingly referred to as their other daughter; I am very fond of my own BF's parents, they're on my Christmas card list but you know, when I go to Charlotte to visit her, I rarely see her parents. I doubt they have their feelings hurt over it. More importantly, I'm sure they would never dream of demanding that I come by for a meal while I'm in town. It's hard enough to plan a trip to see my friend, let alone wedge her parents into it.

I hope that my kids make friends whom I enjoy. But I hope that when I am pushing 60 I am still looking to you girls for fun evenings, not expecting my kids' friends to provide my social life.

Twinkle: Hey, Fun Sink--Do I Look Like Someone Who Does Not Appreciate Hardwood Floors?

Just one minor complaint about Fun Sink. It's not even a big one, but I think it illustrates her complete lack of faith in my general competence.

My girls went swimming with Fun Sink and my FIL today, and when I picked them up Fun Sink handed me a huge plastic bag of wadded up wet towels and bathing suits that obviously needed attention in the near future. There was no denying that the towels were wet, but she still felt the need to state the obvious and remind me that the situation probably couldn't wait until morning--the suits and towels might get moldy if I waited too long to attend to them.

Now I will be the first to admit that I hate doing laundry, but do I look like the type of person who would leave a large plastic bag full of wet towels on my hardwood floor to rot overnight? Is there evidence of mold, mildew, or general neglect on any of the suits or towels I've sent with my girls in the past? Do I give the impression that I was raised by wolves?

Sorry, Fun Sink--the only person I know who would leave a bag of wet towels on the floor was raised by you.

Twinkle: Leave FIL and His New TV Alone!

There was little mention of the bastard baby tonight at dinner, probably because a sweet aunt and cousin were in attendance. There was some light joking about the announcement (which Mr. Twinkle instigated, trying to stir the pot), but little in the way of judgment. The judgment was there on Fun Sink's face, but even she knew it just wouldn't have been appropriate for her to articulate it.

What was discussed was my father-in-law's new basement flat-screen tv, which he and the cousin in attendance had hung on the wall that very afternoon. Fun Sink was complaining about it all: the tv was too big, the tv was on one of those mounts that makes it pivot (not sure why that's a bad thing), my father-in-law couldn't wait to hang it until the furniture was there, he had the decorator measure it perfectly in the center of the wall last time she was there.

So, let's review. My father-in-law:

1). Purchased a large flat-screen television for the enjoyment of his family and friends.

2). Agreed to a decorator, to make the basement into a very nice hangout space.

3). Cared enough to work with the decorator to make sure the tv was placed appropriately.

4). Is also buying new furniture, which I'm sure Fun Sink selected in a fashionable shade of brown.

5). Was able to hang the tv himself.

Let's examine this through the lens of one Mr. Twinkle, because Mr. Twinkle is a man who knows his limitations, and I try to be nice about those limitations. One of those limitations is general around-the-house handiness. He will admit this. My FIL's handiness has skipped a generation, and because of this my domesticity is not limited to cooking and cleaning. For instance, I built the shelves in the playroom. I've hung every picture in the house. I have a mitre saw and I know how to use it. If I need a toy chest in a child's room, I'd better be prepared to put it together myself--which I am. If I find that I am physically unable to hold the toy chest's top while attaching the special, gently-closing hinges, the toy chest will sit there indefinitely, unused and half-finished and probably hazardous to small children, with toys scattered across the floor. Honey Badger don't care--I know my limitations, too. He'll get around to it one of these days. Maybe in time for grandchildren. Or maybe I should just call a handyman like we do for everything else that I can't do. (In fact, that's the best idea I've had all week. Thanks for the brainstorm, Fun Sink!)

When it was time to mount a flat-screen tv on our wall (which I generously allowed to be hung in the living room), he knew it would be best to hire someone to do it. And it was a good thing he did, because the delivery man dropped the tv, cracked it, and then hit Mr. Twinkle's car on the way to get a new one. It's really hard to mount a tv on a wall--even professionals find it difficult. Even the small tv in our room upstairs was installed by a handyman, and it was three years after we moved into the house that we finally got it accomplished. And if I hadn't taken the initiative, it would still be sitting unused in the basement. Have you all ever heard me complaining about any of this? No, you haven't. And you won't, because we all have our limitations, myself included. (Case in point: unfinished toy chest).

So, y'all understand why I say that it's really, really cool that my father-in-law can hang a tv and wants to hang a tv and made it happen within hours of the tv's delivery. But all Fun Sink can do is complain about it. Just say, "Great job," and let the man enjoy his tv!

Julep: Living Right Next Door to Crazy

How crazy is my neighbor B? Let me count the ways. Some of her greatest hits to date include:

* Calling Animal Control. First it was on our dogs. (They're dogs. They will bark from time to time.) Then it was on the dogs of the new neighbors across the street - they were renters, but perfectly delightful and a huge improvement over the prior tenant, a single mom whose teenage daughter was an after-school special waiting to happen, out on the porch with her boyfriend at all hours. Crazy B ran off those nice folks and the new renter has to leave her dog at her mom's house because the landlord got tired of the complaints.

* Calling the cops. The very high point was the time she called the cops on my Junior League committee meeting because people were parked against the flow of traffic - more importantly, in front of her house. It's the Highlands, woman. Everyone parks against the flow of traffic. I'm not even sure it's illegal here. But there was also the night she called the cops on Mr. J because he was outside in the garage with his friend N drinking beer and working on N's bike. Apparently they were being too loud. You know those rowdy drunk bike mechanics.

* Sending certified letters. We live next door, you would think she could hand-deliver. But no, when she wanted to complain about the dead tree in the back of the lot (that we didn't even realize was on our property, as it's in the utility easement), she sent us certified mail.

Now, in the latest bout of crazy, we have ...

* Getting a lawyer. Yes, that's right, Crazy B has harassed some poor friend of hers who practices employee benefits law to send us a vaguely threatening letter about the construction project we have planned. See, we made the mistake of telling her and the other neighbors that we would be starting this project - because we are good neighbors, wanted to apologize in advance for the inconvenience. And how did Crazy B react? By lawyering up.

Her lawyer didn't have much to say, just fussed a little bit about the utility easement and how we need to get permits. Yes, thanks for that tip, sir. The reason you didn't see any permits on file at the Planning Commission is that we haven't gotten that far yet. We weren't planning to spend $$ on a home addition without having it permitted and inspected.

The fact is, Crazy B has no avenue to complain about a home addition that is not visible from the street and won't change the outside parameters of the building. She just doesn't want to live next door to the dust and noise for three months. And I get that, I do - it is inconvenient for everyone, and she won't even have a wonderful new master suite at the end of it all. Hell, if she weren't such a b!tch we would probably have bought her a fruit basket.

But here's the thing, B. I am a lawyer. Did you forget? I'm not an employee benefits attorney, either. I am a trial lawyer - and as it happens, I am great pals with our firm's land use and zoning expert; I litigate her appeals for her. You've heard the old line about not picking fights with people who buy ink by the barrel - well, the same principle extends here. If you try to get in my way with a bull$h!t legal action, two things will happen. (1) You will lose - because you have no grounds - and (2) you will rack up legal fees that you will not believe. Because I can do this all day, woman. For free. I knew you were crazy - are you stupid, too?