Twinkle: An Inevitable Downton Abbey Analogy

Baby B has RSV, so we skipped ballet class in favor of snuggling up for a little Downton Abbey viewing party. (Yes, Julep...this is the life of a girl mama). And I totally realized something: I am the Lady Edith of Mr. Twinkle's family. My SIL is, of course, Lady Mary. No one would ever consider her a Mary in real life, which is why being Edith to her Mary within the family is even harder to tolerate.

I've never considered myself an Edith in my real life...I don't have sisters to compare myself with, so, while I like the saga of the Crawley sisters, I can't personally identify with anyone but their mother, Cora. Anyway, in my normal day-to-day life, I don't feel like an Edith because some people (Mr. Twinkle, my family, you all) seem to like me and want me around, and I also have much better taste in men. But I realized that, to Fun Sink, I am totally Edith. Always lacking what she wants me to be, always less than. Never quite as good as Mary; always desperate to prove her worth but never measuring up or even being given the chance to rise to the occasion.

And I think that is why it's so hard for me to even go over there. When I have to, I consider it a study in humility. I go about my life, doing my thing, considering myself an equal to the people I see. And then I go over there, and suddenly everyone's treating me like Edith. It's very jarring. And then I leave, and I'm me again.

Thank goodness.

Julep: On mothers and daughters

For Christmas this year, I gave J-Mama a book club: a list of books for the two of us to read and discuss over the course of the year. We had our first meeting at the Panera Bread on Saturday morning. I liked the book, and I really liked hearing her perspective.

I realized this weekend how lucky I am that I have had so many years to get to know my mother as an adult - and I want to spend as much time with her as I can. When my mom was my age, she still had 25 more years of time with her own mother. I hope I am going to have that much time with J-Mama. I was always pretty close to my mom, but I treasure her now in a way that I never did before. I don't know whether that is because I have become a mother myself and I realize how much of her guidance I am going to need to bring this child to a happy, healthy, high-functioning adulthood - why wasn't I taking better notes when she was raising me right? - or because J-Mama's health prospects have become precarious with the whole Parkinsonian thing.

I think you girls are aware that we are back on the list with the adoption agency. I would love to have a girl, and Mr. J is pulling for another boy, so we are leaving this up to fate. Of course I don't know for sure - since I didn't even grow up with a brother - but I can't help but think that the mother-daughter connection is something that just isn't the same with sons. Do y'all know the old line "A son is a son 'til he takes a wife, but a daughter's a daughter all of her life"? Maybe I only think that is true because my family has always been kind of a matriarchy. I still miss my grandmama, and I know that J-Mama misses her too. In the years before Grandmama moved north to the assisted living, after she stopped driving and was getting elderly, J-Mama went to visit her every day. She has told me so many times how glad she was they had that time together.

J-Mama told me last month - after years of saying that she would never retire, she'd work until she died - that she talked to her financial advisor and she thinks she will retire in three years, at 62. She figures she will stay busy by picking my kids up after school every day. May we all be so lucky that her plan comes to fruition.

Julep: On that note...

Dibbs, I just read this article and thought of your post!

I quote: "No, online dating is not a joy. It is a horrific den of humanity...." Does she read ADRG?

I Hate You, Match.Com~Dibbs

Oh, Match.Com, I know you're supposed to create more weddings than any other measure. I know you work for some people. For me, my friend, you've sent me a murderer, a swing-dance enthusiast who may or may not me on the Autism spectrum, and a married native of India who I didn't really care if I understood, as he was talking about the inner-workings of computers. I will praise your block feature. That little married creep sent a message that accidentally slipped through and then got blocked on Christmas. Has he been begging me to chat with him for weeks with no reply? I'll pray that he finds someone else. Please, please, find him someone else. And make sure to teach him to delete the messages on his cell phone. It was a turn-off when his wife texted me.

Match, I just don't understand why no one likes me. I'm a Sunny, Southern, fucking Sweetheart for the Love of God. Am I not making that obvious? Coincidentally, every normal person who sends me a message knew me in college, when I was Sunny, Southern, and Sweet and would have been dismayed at an f-bomb being thrown in the middle of that. I don't need you for those guys, Match, they're already my facebook friends. I don't sense a love connection.

Match, you have one more week. Do you hear me, one more week? No more bandannas, mullets, earners of <$25,000, high school graduates, people who live in Brandenburg, tooth-deprived, or line beards. Give me quality or give me my money back.

Your's in Spinsterhood,

Dibbs

Twinkle: First Snowfall, Not the First (or Last) Time Fun Sink Doubts My Parenting Skills

Well, the Ville was dusted with a very pretty 1-1/2 inch of snow last night, so the Twinkle girls were overjoyed to put on their snowsuits and head out into the winter wilderness this morning. You all might have seen the pics on Facebook...the two older sisters headed out to sled in the park with Mr. Twinks, Big Sister hugging an adorable snowman in the front yard.

Mr. Twinks was talking to his mom on the phone tonight, who asked if I took Baby B to the park to go sledding. Seriously, Fun Sink, do you have so little faith in me and my parenting decisions? Do you actually think I'm going to take a not-yet-three-month-old out in the freezing Kentucky morning, put her on a sled with two rambunctious older sisters, and send them all careening down a hill?

I am just disgusted that she felt she had to ask that question. That is all.

Twinkle: Mother/Baby Bonding

What is it about babies wanting their moms that Mr. Twinkle's family objects to?

Remember the bastard baby whose arrival was announced last summer? Well, she was born, 7 weeks early--she's fine but needs a little bit of time in the NICU to get bigger. So the cousin, Kelly, goes there every morning to hang out with her all day (ask me about this baby's name, the tackiest name ever...I'm afraid if anyone Googled it they would be brought directly to this blog, and that would be bad). Mr. Twinkle's grandmother was talking tonight about how Kelly hates to leave her each night because she starts to cry because she wants Kelly. Grandma-in-Law said, "Of course, the baby doesn't really want her...she just wants to be held. The baby doesn't even know her, but of course I didn't tell her that. But Kelly thinks the baby wants her, when really the baby is too little to know her."

The baby was born about 2 weeks ago. I'd venture a guess that she knows the smell and feel of her mother by now, and I think it's perfectly natural and normal for a mother and child to want to be together.

It used to make me so mad when they'd say that about my babies--that they were too little to know or want me. Who are they to speak the babies of the world? Why is it so unbelievable that Kelly's baby would want her? Why does everyone in this family want to diminish the natural bond between mothers and babies?

It's bizarre.

Also, the babymama just got engaged to the babydaddy. My fingers are crossed for a June wedding, with their bastard baby as the miniature flower girl.

Twinkle: About Those Dining Room Chairs...

...I was wondering the same thing myself, Julep. How do you give someone those without offending them/giving them the wrong thing/spending more than you want to spend? Does she...

a.) Give me a cash amount specifying that this is for the dining room chairs? And if I happen to go over budget, I'd be expected to cover the difference myself? (I'd actually prefer this option if we had a normal relationship, but with her it would require an awkward discussion about money, and that would inevitably lead her to judge me for being too extravagant, which she does all the time anyway).

b.) Go with me to choose the fabric? This could get tricky, because who really wants to explain or justify one's purchases to Fun Sink? A budget would have to be agreed upon ahead of time, and that just sounds awkward and icky. I'm sure she'd get all judgy if I chose something she thought was too expensive or just not her taste. (That's right, folks. Fun Sink does not care for my Herend wedding china. She'd prefer a plastic plate that doubles as a frisbee, or this).

c.) Choose something for me? This is obviously the worst option of all--see my post on contemporary judaica.

Fun Sink went with

d.) None of the above.

She didn't end up giving me this, probably because of the potential awkwardness listed above. Looks like Mr. Twinkle is back on the hook for some reupholstery.