post-fourth family frustrations
I have to confess something today.
I have been feeling a bit discontent lately. I was going to dedicate this post to ranting about my family. I was about to lay it all our on the table in a party of self-pity and entitlement. Balloons of frustration and annoyance were already blown. We had already lit the candles of confusion and placed them atop the cake of disgust.
I was going to lay it all out there. About how we cannot play Balderdash without the word "anus" finding its way into a definition. Or about how a day doesn't go by without one brother turning into a Super Saiyon and kah-may-ha-may-ha-ing another brother, which turns into a cage match, which turns into a football game, which turns into a rugby game, which turns into a fight between Captain America and Iron Man, after which Nerf guns are involved and I am used as a shield.
I was going to list my dad's random questions for me, which include but are not limited to:
-Whitney! How do you drink without the liquid coming out your lip ring?! (multiple times per day)
-Whitney, I would say it's about time you saw a gynecologist, don't you think?
-Hey, hon. I know you've been wanting to get rid of your extra belly fat...I've been thinking about this...maybe the reason sit-ups don't help is because you have extra intestines like your mother?
I was going to mention the picture taken yesterday to settle the argument between my aunt & cousin about whose butt was bigger, but that was when I realized: you know what, Whitney? Everyone's family is weird! I'll bet everyone has that one divorced aunt who is on a year-long Man Fast! I'm sure we all find ourselves googling whether it's illegal for Nana to throw dollar bills at a shirtless four year old for dancing!
And haven't we all been woken up by our sleepwalking brother, warning us that "WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE."
And so, as I realize that probably every family has dinner table rules that include manners I'm sure we all forget from time to time--wear shirts at the table, do not put your feet on the table (and if you must, please make sure you are wearing socks), do not pop your chest zits at the table--I will put aside my indignant attitude. Instead of griping about the small things that I let get to me when I've had a long day, I say let's just chuckle and move along.
We can dwell on the bad parts of life and family, like when mom describes the nitty gritty details of childbirth, menopause, and her lack of bladder control or we can just deal with it. Laugh. Ignore the parts about the incessant bleeding. It's a part of life, Whitney. Everyone's mom is like that. And they don't all go being divas on the internet about it. So you don't have to, either.
Because don't we all have those cousins that secretly try to get our ordained grandpa tipsy the night before a sermon?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
I have been feeling a bit discontent lately. I was going to dedicate this post to ranting about my family. I was about to lay it all our on the table in a party of self-pity and entitlement. Balloons of frustration and annoyance were already blown. We had already lit the candles of confusion and placed them atop the cake of disgust.
I was going to lay it all out there. About how we cannot play Balderdash without the word "anus" finding its way into a definition. Or about how a day doesn't go by without one brother turning into a Super Saiyon and kah-may-ha-may-ha-ing another brother, which turns into a cage match, which turns into a football game, which turns into a rugby game, which turns into a fight between Captain America and Iron Man, after which Nerf guns are involved and I am used as a shield.
I was going to list my dad's random questions for me, which include but are not limited to:
-Whitney! How do you drink without the liquid coming out your lip ring?! (multiple times per day)
-Whitney, I would say it's about time you saw a gynecologist, don't you think?
-Hey, hon. I know you've been wanting to get rid of your extra belly fat...I've been thinking about this...maybe the reason sit-ups don't help is because you have extra intestines like your mother?
I was going to mention the picture taken yesterday to settle the argument between my aunt & cousin about whose butt was bigger, but that was when I realized: you know what, Whitney? Everyone's family is weird! I'll bet everyone has that one divorced aunt who is on a year-long Man Fast! I'm sure we all find ourselves googling whether it's illegal for Nana to throw dollar bills at a shirtless four year old for dancing!
And haven't we all been woken up by our sleepwalking brother, warning us that "WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE."
And so, as I realize that probably every family has dinner table rules that include manners I'm sure we all forget from time to time--wear shirts at the table, do not put your feet on the table (and if you must, please make sure you are wearing socks), do not pop your chest zits at the table--I will put aside my indignant attitude. Instead of griping about the small things that I let get to me when I've had a long day, I say let's just chuckle and move along.
We can dwell on the bad parts of life and family, like when mom describes the nitty gritty details of childbirth, menopause, and her lack of bladder control or we can just deal with it. Laugh. Ignore the parts about the incessant bleeding. It's a part of life, Whitney. Everyone's mom is like that. And they don't all go being divas on the internet about it. So you don't have to, either.
Because don't we all have those cousins that secretly try to get our ordained grandpa tipsy the night before a sermon?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Comments
Post a Comment