Archive for the ‘family’ Tag
November 05 2009
Every time I talk to my mother, she’ll ask what the kids are doing. The response is usually the same: “Jedi’s on the computer. Buzz’s in the back, probably destroying something. And Abby’s back there with him.”
Most days, Abby wants to wear every article of clothing she comes across. This particular day, her fashion choices consist of an orange oversized skateboarding shirt which hangs past her knees on top of a blue Spiderman tee. Both from her brothers, of course. Underneath all of that, however, are pink stripes and socks with red bows.
Inevitably, a few moments later, there are cries from the lone girl of the group. From either standing her ground, or getting knocked around a little too rough. For the most part they all get along well, but when they don’t. You have to stand up for yourself around brothers. Especially a brother like Buzz.
She’ll come toddling in, voicing her frustration the only way she knows how. If she could talk I’m sure she’d let me know. 9 times out of 10, someone took her toy. It’s usually a toy that she wasn’t supposed to have anyway. A too big for her light saber or headless action figure. We have yet to fully embrace the pink section of the toy aisle.
My mom, still on the phone, listens in on Abby’s intent wails. “She’s gonna be a tomboy when she grows up”, she’ll voice without fail. “Although when you grow up with two brothers like that, you almost have to be.” Says a woman who grew up with only sisters.
Believe me, she usually gives just as good as she gets even in her small size. Who says girls can’t be tough while still being girls? If it needs to be, though, the pink stripes and red bows can remain our little secret.
September 15 2009
My family has always been very television-centric. Growing up, we would eat dinner in front of the tv, talk, laugh, cry, all in front of the tv. It was like a 5th family member, the one that wouldn’t shut up. This being said, my parents were extremely lenient about what I was able to watch. For instance, I was allowed to view Nightmare on Elm Street in the dead of dark without a second thought, scaring the bejesus out of my kindergarten self. Seriously, recurring nightmares of Freddie Krueger for months.
The lone exception to the rule was Dirty Dancing.
Dirty Dancing was released into movie theaters when I was about 8 years old. Not long after, it made it’s way to cable where it became a staple. I can remember peeking around the corner of our living room as my mother watched Johnny and Baby dance together. As soon as she would notice my small shadow or hear a faint footstep, the channel was quickly changed. It was like someone who had been caught doing something really bad, even though now it all seems quite tame.
A short time later, I was given my own tv for my bedroom. Of course, as soon as Dirty Dancing came on cable again, I sat transfixed. This was about as rebellious as I ever got as a kid. The volume down, a bashful grin on my face, a bit of embarrassment in the pit of my stomach. I loved every minute of it.
As cliche and saccharine as it is, and believe me it is, Dirty Dancing became more than just a movie. It was a part of my childhood, a rite of passage, a time of my life. It is now a memory between my Mom and I. My mother eventually figured out that I had seen it. The movie no longer became taboo. Even to this day, whenever my Mom passes it on one of the channels, she’ll give me a call to let me know. And I still love every minute of it.
August 27 2009
This is just a working theory, but I’ve noticed that there’s a direct correlation between the obnoxious value of a toy gifted to your child and the amount of obnoxiousness you’ve bestowed upon the giver over the years. It’s like revenge disguised as love, wrapped in festive paper with curly bows.
For instance, my brother gave Abby a tea set for her birthday. Now this seems harmless and sweet enough at first glance. Until you notice the button that plays music, complete with quaint British accent. Which she likes to push. Over and over and over. And over, ad infinitum. Until it seeps into my brain and I wake up screaming about tea cups and plastic danishes.
I always thought I was a fairly decent sister. Apparently, he would disagree. We are 7 years apart with not much in common, so our time together was usually rather limited. However, I would try to tag along whenever I could. And I eavesdropped on more than a handful of telephone conversations. I even may have hit him as hard as I could in an area where guys prefer not to be hit, more than once, just because, as a little kid, I thought it was funny. I can understand why he may still hold some ill-will towards that one.
It’s not as if he was always so nice to me, either. We had the typical brother/sister relationship. Since I was younger, it was easy to either ignore me entirely or manipulate my naive mind for his gain. I can’t even count how many times I was grounded just by following his lead. Which reminds me, I think my nephew is in need of a drum set this year.
July 13 2009
We celebrated my parents’ 38th wedding anniversary yesterday. My mother says 39, my father says 38. I’m more inclined to believe my father, because his memory is still sharp as a tack at 76 years of age. My 63 year old mother, on the other hand, can’t even remember where she’s at half the time.
Whatever the number, it’s a long time. In my mother’s defense, I think it’s just assumed that after so long, you’re going to lose track eventually. Heck, J and I have been together for 11 years and I have a hard enough time keeping that straight.
What’s even more remarkable is how they genuinely still like each other after all these years. They still hold hands and cuddle together and lean on one another. My dad absolutely adores my mom and my mom would be completely lost without my dad.
And so we prepared dinner in celebration. I have no idea what kind of gift to buy for them, but I know they like to eat. Grilled t-bone steaks and bacon wrapped chicken. Green bean salad and macaroni salad and mashed potatoes and sweet rolls. Ice cream cones for dessert.
Happy 30-something anniversary. Hopefully, there’s many many more.
June 08 2009
We went to our first fireworks show of the season this weekend. A warmup, if you will. Last year, Buzz threw a fit of magnificent proportions on the 4th of July, complete with leg kicking, arm flailing, nose running, and tears gushing. The majority of the incident was spent with him in the car, attempting to soothe his fear and quiet him down and failing miserably.
Before the festivities began this time, we aspired to fabricate as much preparation as possible. We were all “POW! POW! FIREWORKS!”, and he was all “POW! POW! FIREWORKS!”, hand gestures included, and everyone was smiling and happy. With the first illumination, however, Buzz turned from smiling and happy to hostile trepidation. At least we didn’t leave with a layer of snot covering his chin, though, so I’ll consider it a success.
I wanted to take pictures, but it’s difficult to balance a camera, 3 kids, and a blanket without dropping someone and/or breaking something. Instead, I’ll use my super awesome power of the written word; they were big, they were bright, they were colorful, and they were loud. It’s like you were right there, isn’t it?
Or, as Jedi proclaimed after a particularly vibrant color burst, “The guys on the moon could see that!”
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
