Keeping It In The Family

Posted on May 18, 2012 by Lonna

Not me.

My sister and I are very close. I am reminded of this every time an inquiring mind asks, “How did you and your husband meet?”

Sometimes my story is, “We met each other a long time ago and reconnected on facebook.” Other times I confess, “Well, I think I answered my front door and he wanted to know if my sister was home.”

She briefly dated him shortly at the end of her senior year in high school. The year: 1994.

People want to know, “Was there an initial attraction?” I remember thinking he was a cute kid. He was passionate about Picasso which touched an intimate part of me.

People also wonder, “Is it weird?” Sure it was a little strange having my sister introduce me to his parents at a family barbecue. She also informed me which window of their home belonged to the bathroom.  An upside: I didn’t have to introduce him to anyone from my immediate family. He’d met everyone before. That was simple. He was previously tested and approved.

Other than that, no. It was over 18 years ago.

Since high school, my sister’s been married and has a whole mini-van full of children. A whole mini-van…

Since then, he’s dated many women and had many relationships. Many. A whole lot…

Still, some people wonder if there is tension when we three get together. Brian and I find this completely ridiculous. The man chose and put a ring on my finger. He says, “You’re not jealous of your sister, are you? I think you got the better end of the deal.”

Yes, I did. But did he?

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Mother Mary, could you?

Posted on May 12, 2012 by Lonna
Originally posted on Nov. 18, 2009. Reposted in honor of my lovely mother for Mother’s Day. I love you mom!
 
 
This display of my mother’s least favorite picture (Mary at age 6?) and her posting of my Page 6 Trentonian spread on Facebook–entirely coincidental.

 

First off, I love my mother. Not only is she my second best bud, she raised me, coddled me, and actually encouraged my nutty creativity. Not once did she suggest that paper tablecloths didn’t need crayoned stitches. And my drawing of a woman in a bikini that I spent precious kindergarten time constructing…the billowing cleavage wasn’t unacceptable. In fact, I think she deemed it “quite lifelike.” This woman allowed me to start my third grade days off with coffee. Without her, I would have suffered prepubescent caffeine deprivation. She’s the backbone of my personality.

But…

Well, in addition to being a contrarian (the sky is blue, unless you say it’s blue, then it’s pink, unless you agree with her, which at that point transforms back to blue) my mother Mary, she’s like Mother Theresa except alive, without the robe, and with assorted complicated views. She has the ability to put herself in your shoes, no matter who you are. Whether you are the kid down the street, the homeless guy on the corner, or a sociopath with homicidal tendencies, she feels your pain.

This issue came up recently. My mother was spending the night on my couch. Maria Vargas from 20/20 warned us that what we were about to witness was SHOCKING. The reconstructed face of a girl who’s psychotic ex-boyfriend had tried to erase with a sawed-off shotgun.

My reflex, “WHAT AN ASS!”

Hers, “Well you never know what you’re capable of as a human being…you know…if the right circumstances presented themselves.”

My rebuttal, “What? That I might try to blow someone’s head off with a firearm? I can pretty much say that that’s never going to happen.”

Her response, “Never say never.”

Before counting the sharps in my kitchen, I reminded her that this is not something to share with me just before I go to bed.

Could she?

My mom on Charles Manson: “He was a poor kid that nobody loved.” And about the LaBianca murders, “They stayed, had a meal, and took showers afterwards. That’s weird.” Um…yeah. So is stabbing an innocent woman 41 times. “I just don’t understand it.” Mother, that’s the duct tape of civilization. If you did understand it, I would inform the authorities.

Again, could she?

A vision from the past. My mother blows short puffs of air into her cupped hands, trying to revive a praying mantis. Insect CPR.

No, she couldn’t.

Never.

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What I want for Mother’s Day

Posted on May 12, 2012 by Lonna

Disclaimer: The last few weeks have been extremely taxing, so bear with me, please…

  1. My daughter, Mali, to start integrating colors other than black into her wardrobe.
  2. Mali to finally realize that she is 11, and for just one day, act 11.
  3. Mali to utter I love you back before bedtime instead of Okay.
  4. Only my gray hair to fall out.
  5. Simon to get his hair wet during swimming class.
  6. Maxwell, my four month old, to be able to ingest table food because formula’s really expensive.
  7. Simon to start eating table food because Pediasure’s really expensive.
  8. Alcohol of any kind. Gin, whiskey, cheap boxed wine, Natty Ice, vanilla extract, isopropyl, ecetera. I don’t mind if it’s not drinkable, the very fact that it’s within reach, comforts me.
  9. Maxwell to speak early but only say, “Mommy, I love you dearly,” and “You look beautiful, incredibly thin, and attractive.”
  10. To sleep in until 11…PM…three days from now.
  11. An endless supply of sea monkeys
  12. Simon to keep his underwear on and his fingers out of his butt at all times.
  13. For Mali to do the same.
  14. Duct tape.
  15. Mali to wear pants.
  16. An attractive driver’s licence photo.
  17. Vegetarian spam.
  18. Tim Burton to stop ruining my childhood favorites.
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Help! My four year old is channeling Ghandi!

Posted on May 6, 2012 by Lonna
Dear Simon,
          The British no longer rule India. So EAT YOUR DAMN FOOD!
                                                                                     With love,
                                                                                     Your mother
 

The above is a genuine pre-dinner picture.
 

If you thought Battle at Gettysburg was bad, come have dinner at our house. Simon brings picky eating to a whole new level.

Just today, first pancakes, then waffles were requested and delivered, but not eaten.

Last night, the pizza was yucky, and therefore not fit for consumption. He wanted chocolate donuts.

Our lives haven’t always been this way.

At one point, we were able to put a burrito on this boy’s plate without setting off H-bombs, A-bombs, or F-bombs.

He used to be able to enjoy ice cream without having it “warmed up”.

Substances that Simon will eat:

  • milk, white (luckily) and chocolate (of course)
  • Pediasure (the devil’s elixir), chocolate-flavored
  • lolly pops
  • tootsie rolls
  • chocolate donuts
  • erasers
  • toy skateboards
  • soapy bath water
  • chlorinated pool water

I don’t fault the kid for eating erasers, nor am I worried. I empathise. I could tell you whether a tissue was produced by Kleenex or Puffs based on taste alone. As an adult, I’ve given up eating notebook paper, pencils, crayons, pine needles, Chapstick, Playdough, etc.

If Playdough had any nutritional value, I may serve it…because I think he’d like it. I do and Mali confesses, “I have to admit it’s pretty tasty. It tastes oily.”

Substances that Simon MAY eat (depending on mood and position of the Earth’s axis):

  • Mac-n-cheese, boxed not homemade
  • cookies
  • cheese
  • grilled cheese, cold
  • hot dogs, cheeseburgers, meatballs out of canned spaghettios
  • canned pasta (maybe)
  • PB & J
  • Goldfish crackers
  • pizza
  • waffles, pancakes with copius amounts of butter and syrup

I know what you’re thinking: “That list isn’t bad.” It’s not, if he actually ate a decent amount of the above. I see a running dollar amount and envision starving children every time his left overs hit the trash can. He refuses any dish that has been reheated or unfinished. He does this I want beefaroni-one spoonful and I’m full-thing so many times that I said NO more canned pasta. I can’t do it anymore. I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat and I don’t relish being someone else’s garbage disposal. I hate to waste so much that my mother brings her own tissues and paper towels when she visits. This boy also claims to like canned applesauce and bananas, although I’ve never seen him eat more than a bite of either.

Substances Simon will NOT eat:

  • eggs (they’re yucky)
  • peas, or vegetables of any kind
  • milk with fuzz in it (milk with added protein powder)
  • pizza with flowers on it (spinach and feta)
  • pizza with sauce on it
  • yucky pizza
  • crappy pizza
  • coffee (thanks Grandma)
  • fresh fruit
  • anything he has you put in the freezer/refrigerator >3 times
  • anything he has you cut up
  • all items in aisle 3-8

Aside from covering everything in Hershey’s syrup and offering complete tootsie roll entrees, we’ve tried it all.

I want to completely detox this kid…and now my daughter from anything with added sugar. He’s addicted to sweets and I’m forced to enable this by serving him chocolate-flavored Pediasure. No syrup. No donuts. No candy. No jelly. No chocolate. No complex carbohydrates. No water. No air. But I’m evil.

But what about Halloween? Instead of collecting candy, we’ll decorate the houses of our friend’s and family with colored toilet paper.

And Easter? Did Jesus have jellybeans, Reese’s peanutbutter cups, and chocolate bunnies at the last supper?

All I am asking of you is moral support. Unless it’s 100% proven to work 100% of the time, with 100% of children, or really creative, I want no parental advice. AND whatever you do, DON’T try to make me feel guilty for not covering everything in chocolate/sugar. I will track you down and take away your potato chips!

Number of times chocolate is mentioned: 7

Posted in Familial Fragments, My Torturous Thoughts, Parental Advice | Tagged , , | Leave a comment