Unfortunately Related

My grandfather died last week.

It was sad, obviously, but not tragic. He was 89 years old, had quintuple (that’s 5 if you can’t uple that high) bypass surgery 15 years ago, another bypass surgery 2 years ago and a heart attack a week before he died. So while sympathy is ALWAYS appreciated (after all, what is a blog for??), it’s not the point here.

His funeral meant we had a mini, impromptu family reunion. As plans were coming into place, I confess I had a minor panic attack at the thought of sharing a 1000-square foot house (namely, my grandparent's old place) with my husband, son, mother, brother, sister, Aunt and Uncle.

Fortunately, the Mooch has no soul nor desire to spend quality time with the extended family and drove 2 hours to spend 3 hours at only the funeral and reception. Then the Princess and Walking Guilt Trip declared themselves above sharing facilities with the recently departed and so rented a hotel room for the weekend, as did my Aunt (which I will only assume was a charitable act to us and had nothing to do with her more than minor hatred of small children.) Her husband chose not to come. I’d comment, but I believe he was taking care of his own old, sick relatives, so I will refrain this one time only.

Now, as I’m sure all families must be prone to discuss during the visitation hours in the funeral home following the death of a love one, mine began to discuss the new positions the family members had required. In other words, The Walking Guilt Trip announced that she was now The Matriarch.

A common thing to announce at a funeral, I’m sure.

Thus began a lively debate on the Princess status. You see, both my Aunt and my sister wanted the title. In the end, they shared. No lingering bitterness from either side. Really. (PS - I would find it more amusing that The Princess titled herself The Princess if it weren’t such a fitting title and really rather obvious and therefore not at all clever on my part.)

Discussion moved on. The Energizer Bunny became The Little Prince. Stares turned to me. I chose to kindly exit the conversation with the pretense of entertaining the newly dubbed Little Prince, who was not at all entertained by the grievously incorrect topic. It was a good excuse.

Upon my return, I was told I had been named “Unfortunately Related” to the Family.

SO TRUE, so true!! I accept!!

Only later did it occur to me that THEY named ME. THEY were unfortunately related to ME. HOW DARE THEY!? Bastards! All of them!!

True Story

The Energizer Bunny, like all good two-year olds, is becoming quite adept at story-telling. He is telling stories - some true stories and some that he makes up - usually mildly clever but highly endearing. The problem is that he really can't tell you which ones are ACTUALLY true. He really believes if he's told the story, it's REAL. And real in his mind, is the same as true. That just seemed cute to me. Except...

While I was washing dishes in the kitchen, the Energizer Bunny was talking to his trains (Thomas and Duncan, they're his favorites).

"One time, Momma and me went sleddin' on the big purple sled, and Momma pushed me down the green driveway 'stead of the white snow, and I goed into the street and got hit by a car!"

Dear Lord, my child is telling people I pushed him in front of a moving vehicle!

Fabulous Fitness Friday

Spring is here!!! The past two weeks have been blue skies with temperatures in the 50s and 60s! March in Michigan!!! This is insane!

And because the weather has been so fantastic, I've been able to start riding my bike into work this week! This is particularly awesome, because I don't have to deal with the crazy stalkers or Hannibal Lecter types on the bus OR the even crazier bus schedule (if I'm perfectly on time walking to the bus stop, I'll watch it go flying by, but if I'm even 30 seconds early, the bus is bound to be 13 minutes late...)

But that's not the point, the point is, you too, should start riding your bike to work! But...with the way my ass feels after only 3 days of riding, it would probably be a good idea to start slowly instead of jumping right into it full speed...

Loving Concern

One late night recently, after the Unsupportive Louse returned home from yet another day spent slaving over a document no one will ever read, he was generous enough to ask me how I was.

"I have this horrible hacking cough, my throat is dry and scratchy and my nose is all congested and the congestion is making my head pound too. Plus my mouth and tongue are all dried out because I can't breathe out of my nose. I'm frigging exhausted and the Energizer Bunny didn't take a nap today so I didn't even get a break all day."

He regards me calmly and replies, "If I'm sick the week before my thesis is due, I'm gonna be pissed."

It's so good to know he cares about me!

Gamma Guilt Trip

The morning after a quasi recent date (because it's been that long since I've actually had time to write blogs consistently) I asked the Energizer Bunny how his evening with The Walking Guilt Trip had been.

"Good, Momma."

"Did you eat dinner?"

"Yeah."

"What did you have?"

"Omm... chocolate!" (This could be a wish on his part because he can't remember at the moment, or most likely, it is simply the truth. While I never would have had chocolate anywhere near dinner, I believe it actually pleases The Walking Guilt Trip to break my rules and see how I respond. Clearly getting mad at my own mother would incite ridiculous guilt, that for her to watch must be almost like a fortune-teller watching a self-fulling prophecy come to be. For the time being, I chose to ignore the response.)

"Did you play?"

"Yeah." Getting information out of a two-year old who does nothing but ask "why" all day and therefore should know very well what it means to answer a question is a billion times harder than it should be.

"What did you play?"

"Umm... played trains..." He has this really cute way of dragging out the words in a list while he thinks of the next thing to add, "cars... puzzles... books on Gamma's lap..." At this point, a terrible sadness overcomes his entire face, his eyes fills with tears and his lower lip sticks out and begins to quiver. Enough to break a mother's heart.

"Kiddo, what's wrong?"

"Gamma got mad."

This does not surprise me even a little bit, my mother has the patience of a fly (something, I might add, I perhaps inherited just a little bit of), but it still upsets me, obviously. "Why did Gamma get mad?"

"'Cause I peed."

"Because you peed?" I have the brilliant ability to extrapolate (something the Unsupportive Louse is completely inept at), and you see, the Energizer Bunny is in the process of being potty trained (or potty-taught or learned or whatever politically correct but grammatically incorrect phrase you prefer to use) and still has occasional accidents. So I asked, "Did you pee in your underwear?"

Looking at the floor, full of shame, "Yeah."

"And Gamma was upset?" This seems extreme to me even for my mother to get mad at a two-year old simply for having an accident.

He looks up at me, eyes brimming with tears, "'Cause I peed on her lap." I did everything in my willpower to keep from laughing at this hilarious scene: my perfectly composed mother in her freshly pressed slacks discovering the warm feel of pee on her leg.

A tiny tear trickles out of one eye. It's amazing the power a single real tear has over me. "Gamma don'nt wanna come over any-more 'cause I peed."

The guilt trip. I can hear it now, "Gamma isn't going to want to come over anymore if you pee on her."

Way to start 'em young Gamma Guilt-Trip, way to start 'em young.

Can You Feel the LOOOOVE Tonight?

To give me a break from my single parenting, the Unsupportive Louse came home early one day and made dinner!! No way! I was allowed to put my feet up...and chase the Energizer Bunny, set the table, fan the smoke detector and otherwise calmly relax while my dinner was prepared for me.

And dinner was fantastic. (No really, it actually was. Like FanTAStic. No exaggeration. Nothing was even burnt. The smoke detector might have just been having a little fun with me. Like the Energizer Bunny when he sees me sit down. It just makes them want to f*(k with me a bit, you know?)

So after dinner (which may have been just a teansy little bit later than we normally eat dinner) and the lengthy clean-up (which may have seemed like a lot more of a clean-up than we normally have when I make dinner), the Unsupportive Louse makes some very romantic and classy comment in regards to doing me, like, "I can't wait to do you later."

Remember I've been single-parenting for two months now, so I respond, "What if I'm too tired?"

"It doesn't matter, I made dinner, I have free access to your pants."

Famous By Association

There's the cutest little story posted on Everydayfiction.com called Conversation with a Giant:

http://www.everydayfiction.com/conversation-with-a-giant-by-kate-sheeran/

Of course you should all read the story because it's cute, and give it a good rating because it's cute. But let's focus on the more important things here - me.

You see, the author, Kate Sheeran (who is clearly now famous, being a published author and all) is my critique partner. Which means I critiqued that cute story. Which means I am famous by association. So make sure you read it and give it a good rating because it makes me look better. Thank you very much.