Guilty

Upon picking up my daughter from a sleepover at my mother-in-law's house:

MIL: So, I just need to tell you something that Vivian said to me yesterday, out of nowhere."
Me: Oh, what?
MIL:She said, 'Mommy doesn't love Daddy'. And when I asked her why or what she meant, she said, 'Mommy always yells at Daddy'.
Me: Oh! Uh .. . . .
MIL: So I just told her that sometimes people get frustrated with each other and speak sharply to each other but they still love each other, like when Isaac made her mad, she might yell but she still loved him. That seemed to pacify her. But . . .
Me: Oh, that is terrible. That, uh . . .
MIL: So I just thought you should know. They pick up on that stuff. They know what's going on.
Me: Of course. Yes. Um, thank you for telling me. That is terrible.
MIL: And you know, Isaac said the same thing to me, about 6 months ago.
Me: . . .! . .


It makes me want to throw up, just reliving it now. But I need to. I need to put it here, where I can see it, where I can remind myself to grow up already and stop acting like an idiot. So I give it to you to hold and remember, to throw back in my face if I ever start getting high and mighty again.

God. Am such an asshole.

Question

This is our Christmas card photo.




Thoughts?


UPDATE:
Because this is what my mother-in-law said: "What were you thinking? Vivian's legs are spread all apart for everyone to see! I can't believe that is the picture you chose."

Hawaii is Heaven

First of all, I need to plug our little hotel in Maui. The Mauian is surprisingly affordable (Hawaii is tres, tres* expensive), steps from the beach, and completely clean and comfortable. Each small "studio" holds a queen bed, a daybed, a bathroom, kitchenette and balcony or deck. No TVs or telephones or anything remotely fancy, but it was clean. And did I mention? Steps from the beach. They held a continental Hawaiian breakfast every morning in the great room, which also boasted a bookshelf full of guilty beach reading, and a TV, if you just had to have your Sportscenter fix. Many of the people who were staying there had been coming for twenty-plus years, and some who had brought their children years before were now bringing grandchildren. The vibe of the place is completely down-home and friendly, and I loved it. If you're looking for pampering, this is not the place for you, but for us it was perfect. I would stay there again in a heartbeat.

My in-laws stayed next door, at a fancier resort (though still not ultra-fancy--probably two steps up from The Mauian. It seemed very nice, too.) The truth is, in Hawaii, you tend to spend a lot of time on the beach, or in the ocean--so the rooms don't really matter that much. I'd go with the $200 cheaper place per night everytime, especially as the two hotels share the same (spectacular) beach.

Isaac loved the pool of course, but most of all he loved the kids that were also staying there or next door. Lauren, Kelsey, Matthew, Gavin: he was never happier than when running across the green with anyone of them. He also braved the ocean several times, getting tumbled once or twice yet hopping up with a smile on his face. Vivian, of course, stayed as far from the surf as possible, but she played happily enough in the sand, several yards away.


I won't bore you with a million details of Maui--it was all good, and there's not much more I can say about it. We wore out our mouth muscles smiling, drank Mai Tai after Mai Tai, soaked up the sun and explored a teeny bit. I read several books--nothing worthwhile, but enjoyable all the same. Lance's brother and his wife (the nice ones) were their usual easy-going selves, my in-laws were on their best behavior, and Lance and I didn't even fight that much.

We stayed in Maui four days, and then headed off to Kauai for a week. More on that to come.



*Anyone know how to do those little accent thingys?



In other news, I visited a good friend today (my old roommate, from the San Francisco days) whose wife had a baby while we were in Hawaii. Ah, newborns! I couldn't help tearing up, just touching his teeny tiny toes. And his soft downy head. And the silly mewing noises he made. Is there anything sweeter than a newborn? Both parents are head over heels gaga over their son (1st baby) which is really special to see, too. Remember that? When you just can't stop staring at this baby you've created? When the miracle is so fresh and all your emotions are so ripe and overwhelming? Ah.
Most of all, though, I was struck by how in awe the parents were of each other. At different times during our visit, I was alone with each of them, and they both had nothing but nice things to say about each other. "She is such a good mom, Aim. I just . . . I just can't even believe how well she handles everything . .." "Alex has been so amazing. He does laundry, he cooks, he changes diapers, he is so involved, and he wants to be. I am just so glad that he's the one I married."

Today is my 8 year wedding anniversary to Lance. As I sat there today, holding that perfect infant and listening to my two friends overflow with love, I remembered feeling the same way. Feeling so positively blessed to have him in my life. Feeling like the luckiest person on the planet. How we got from there to here--a place where arguing comes more naturally than loving--I'm not really sure. But I need to do some work to find my way back. And it starts tonight. Hawaii was a good start, and now the real work begins.

What's your thing?

About a month ago my mother-in-law emailed me to see if it was alright if she bought Vivian a doll for her birthday. I'm not sure why she felt like she had to ask me, except that she knows I'm not much of a girly-girl and maybe she thought I'd be annoyed by a doll or something. I learned long ago not to try and understand where MIL is coming from, though: she can be a wonderful and generous person but her motivations are often beyond comprehension, if not suspect.

Anyway. She sent the email, and I responded. "Of course!" I said, "Buy her whatever you want. Just do me a favor and don't go overboard. She's only two, after all, she doesn't need every possible outfit and accessory for the doll, too." I only added the last bit because my mother-in-law is a complete Ebay addict, a collector, AND she had three sons. Vivian is her first chance to buy dolls, and I knew that she might get a little crazy. (This woman has over 400 of those Carolers, the little singing Christmas dolls. I'm not kidding.) MIL agreed, and that was that.

(Ha. Ha. Ha. Oops, excuse me.)

Before we left for vacation, MIL handed me several new outfits she had purchased for Vivian's birthday. She wanted her to be able to wear them back East, so she presented them early. Great. I thanked her profusely and went on my way. The day before we left, MIL dropped by with a doll and diaper bag she had purchased for the doll. The diaper bag was full--6 outfits for the doll, new shoes, baby lotion, baby powder, a tiny teddy bear for the doll. "Here", she said, "this is so Vivian can play dollies with her cousin. I thought they'd have fun doing that." "Oh. Okay. Well, uh, thanks. Vivian, what do you say?"

So a bit more than I had asked for, but whatever--she's the grandma, I'm not going to rain on her parade. What's a couple of outfits for a doll anyway. Cue our return from the East Coast, when we walk into our house after a long long flight only to see a twin baby stroller, with two more dolls. Attached is a balloon that says "Happy Birthday Vivi!". Oh but we're not done yet. Last weekend, Vivian received 4 more outfits for each doll, 6 new baby blankets, and two doll sleeping bags. Unwrapped, but at my MIL's house, out for Vivian to play with, was a doll pack n' play, another stroller, and several more assorted cribs/blankets/doll teddy bears.

It was like being at the Bitty Baby store. Everywhere I looked was another present or another toy. I know all of this makes my MIL extremely happy. She finally has her girl to buy for! I really don't want to take any of that joy away from her, and especially now, when Vivian doesn't have a clue what's going on. But it makes me grit my teeth. It is so against my main tenet (my only tenet?) of parenting, which is: DO NOT SPOIL YOUR KIDS WITH A BUNCH OF UNNECESSARY CRAP.

You know how everybody has a "thing"? Something that is really important to you, or really gets under your skin, or something that you are acutely aware of? For me, it is elitism and entitlement, and I'm sure the reason I have such a bug up my ass about it is that I went to a prep school, with tons of extremely rich kids, and many of them were complete assholes. I really don't want my kids to be like that, or to be around that. I have an extremely difficult time with people who just expect to be given a free ride, who think that by virtue of their birth they are entitled to everything they want.

In my opinion, buying a lot of "things" for your kids is wrong for a couple reasons. In the first place, if you buy your child everything they could ever want, how are they going to learn to appreciate anything? If they get a Mercedes for their 16th birthday, what's going to top that? Do you really want the peak of your kids' happiness to be at 16? Nevermind that giving them everything they want denies them the opportunity to work hard for something, to earn it, and to feel proud of themselves. I want my kids to be self-sufficient, and if I buy everything for them, how are they going to learn to do anything for themselves? Secondly, I think buying things just for the sake of buying them is a waste. A waste of your money and a waste of the environment. Of course it's nice sometimes to buy nice things, even if you don't need them. But I like to impress on my kids that you can be just as happy with fewer things. Things don't make you happy.

I'm not articulating this very well. But here's another way of saying it: $300 worth of crap from the American Girl store does not equal love. At two, Vivian would have been just as thrilled with one doll and one outfit. At six, maybe she'll want more. But if she gets five bajillion things today, what in the hell are we going to have to get for her at six? Furthermore, isn't there some value in learning delayed gratification? Like, if when she's six she really really wants the double stroller for the twins, she can ask Santa for it, or save her allowance? And then if she gets it, think how thrilled she'll be! Oh wait, we've denied her that joy, because she already has the thing. Which she got for doing approximately nothing, when she was two years old. When she had never even heard of Bitty Baby.

Anyway, I'm probably making too much of this. I know that the whole spending-too-much-on-the kids-thing is my own personal cross to bear and I'm over-sensitive to it. Still, those Bitty babies are making me itch, and not in a good way. (Is there a good way to itch?)

Is there something in particular about parenting that gets to you? Something that react to more strongly than you maybe should? Or am I the only freak out here?

Conversation, a few minutes ago.

Me: Hi Linda, it's Amy.
Mother-in-law: Oh hi there.
Me: What's going on?
MIL: Just the usual.
Me: Do you and Trent have plans tonight?
MIL: We'll be here. Do you need a babysitter?
Me: Actually, yes. Darren just invited us to his housewarming party--the post office sent our invitation back to him for some reason, so we didn't know about it until today.
MIL: That's fine, just bring them over on your way to Pasadena.
Me: Great, thank you so much! Don't wait up for us--we'll just sneak in quietly and get them later.
MIL: Why don't they spend the night?
Me: Are you sure? That would be great!
MIL: In fact, why don't we keep them until Sunday, since you were planning to come over then anyway?
Me: Really? Until Sunday?
MIL: We haven't seen them in so long, we'd love it!
Me:Wow. Okay. THANKS!

Lance and I now have the entire weekend free of children! Yeehaw! What a nice unexpected weekend bonus!

(The only issue is that once again we'll be leaving Isaac, this time for two days. I'm sure this will NOT help the separation anxiety. What does it say about me that when considering these two things: Isaac's fear and my freedom, freedom wins?

Mother of the year nominations, anyone?

UPDATE: Turns out the last minute party is tonight (Saturday), so we didn't get to fob off the kids after all. Not until tonight anyway. Better for Isaac, not as good for me.

The things we do for love

Today I am driving, in the rain, in the traffic, on the 405 at rush hour, to see the therapist my mother-in-law found so that we could have a family intervention with my asinine brother-in-law. You may remember that said intervention never happened since asinine brother-in-law (assboy?Yes, I like it!) refused to see this particular therapist, insisting that his parents pay for him to see someone else. Which they, of course, agreed to.

Anyway, I am going alone to see the therapist because I have too much rage and anger towards assboy to be able to effectively vent while Lance is in the room. He is Lance's brother, after all. As much as he frustrates Lance, there is still blood between them, there is still a familial tie. To me, he's just a giant asshole with no redeeming characteristics. Actually, to anyone except family, he is a giant asshole with no redeeming characteristics.

This therapist--he's actually a psychiatrist, which is different, no?--costs $225 per 45 minute session. If math is difficult for you, that works out to FIVE DOLLARS PER MINUTE. He does not accept insurance. My in-laws, when they first suggested the whole therapy thing, offered to pay for our sessions, but that feels a little funny to Lance and I, so we paid for the first session ourselves. I'm trying to get our insurance to re-imburse us for at least some of it, but so far, no dice. Suffice to say, this will likely be the last visit.

There is NO WAY I can vent all I need to vent about assboy in one 45 minute session. There is no way the good psychiatrist can give me the tools I need (handgun? muzzle?) to be able to reconcile the fact that assboy is part of my family for the rest of my life. Worse than that, assboy will continue to act like an asshole for the rest of my life, and my in-laws and my husband will make excuses for him for the rest of my life and nothing I do will change that.

First, they made excuses because he's ill. He has Crohn's disease, poor boy. I wonder, how many people in the world--no, the country, or L.A. even--have Crohn's disease and are NOT assholes?Next, they made excuses because he married a controlling, insecure, emotionally stunted bitch. Hmmm, so I guess assboy has no free will of his own? At 30 years old, we shouldn't expect him to take care of himself and be responsible for his own actions? Now they are making excuses because he is mentally unstable and he just can't help himself. I am sure that on the day he finally snaps and brandishes a gun at the local post office, they will say that the twinkie he just ate made him hallucinate. Or worse, that I drove him to it.

The other day my mother-in-law told me that assboy had offered to help Lance and I out with Isaac's health situation. That Lance and I didn't know what it was like to be different, health-wise, but assboy did, and so he would be better to lead Isaac through it. Since I couldn't scratch her eyes out, I said something to the effect of: "Assboy is the last person I would ever ask for advice on anything, especially my son's health. Assboy has made his whole life be about his "disability" and what he can manipulate out of people because of it, and that is absolutely not what I want for Isaac."

Ever since that conversation, my mother-in-law has been distant and a bit snide with me, and I'm guessing the good psychiatrist is going to tell me I should have kept my mouth shut. Assboy is her son, after all.

Internet, after today's session, you are my therapist. How the hell do I live with this fucktard and still maintain peace in my family? For the record, family events without assboy are generally wonderful affairs. I actually like my in-laws, and even love them on some occasions. But I refuse to allow my children around assboy, and this is causing major problems.

(P.S. I didn't want to link all the previous posts on this subject because it's SO. FUCKING. BORING. but in case you are new to me, here they are.)

Happy Birthday

Last Friday night, as I mentioned, I had a date with my husband, to celebrate his 35th birthday. First we went to a new hip spot for a drink, then on to a fancy French restaurant for dinner, which has received rave reviews, despite being extremely expensive . I expected the bill to be high, but I figured it might be the last fancy dinner we have for awhile if we do the remodel, so we might as well go out in style.

Here's where I say: We went. And had a fabulous time. We talked all night, and laughed, and gazed adoringly into each other's eyes. We chewed our precious, delicate morsels of French cuisine and drank our superior French wine and thought of nothing but love and ripping the clothes off each other as soon as we got back to the car.

Except, that's not what happened. Oh, the bill was high. The food was French, and quite good, actually. The service was impeccable and not a bit snotty, as you might expect. But the laughing, the adoring gazes, the fire of the loins--all these things were overshadowed by the incredibly frustrating argument that we got into over--what else?--my brother-in-law, Brad.

I will not go into the particulars here, as it might bore you to tears if you weren't already crying, and furthermore, there is no way to resolve the argument as it just IS WHAT IT IS. I must accept that, and I am having difficulty doing so, and there, I told you the particulars one millisecond after I told you I wouldn't.

Anyway. This is not a post about my fucking brother-in-law. There have been far too many of those on these pages, and I think I should declare the interwebs Brad-free, just to save the rest of you from my agony. Nothing more about him, ever. EVER.

After our argument (although, if truth be told it was much more of a FIGHT than a simple argument), we came home and retreated to the respective corners of our queen size bed. Saturday was spent mostly avoiding the issue, not angrily, but just resignedly. By Saturday evening we could watch the Carolina game together with joy in our hearts, although nothing had (or ever will be) resolved.

Aside: I don't believe in that old rule which says you should never go to bed angry. Sometimes I am so angry that nothing is going to dissuade me from my path, and, especially if there is alcohol involved, it works much better for me to sleep on it. Then I can wake up with a clear head (relatively speaking, of course) and perhaps see things from another point of view. Or at least there is that potential the next day, when often there isn't, the night before.

On Sunday morning, we woke up, packed up the kids and headed down to the beach club, stopping at the grocery store on the way. Once there, I made everybody breakfast, and then we played in the sand for awhile, even venturing down to the ocean for little bit. We wore the kids out, fed them lunch, took them home for naps, and I ran out to the store again. Made Lance a cake, cooked a nice risotto with some grilled fresh salmon. It was a really nice, lazy, easy day, with none of the leftover angst we'd had on Saturday.

I love my husband. I love him more than I express on these pages, more than I am capable of expressing. I hate more than anything that we allowed Brad to interfere with what should have been a celebratory birthday evening.

But you know what? In the end, it doesn't matter. Yes, the fight about Brad disrupted our dinner. We went to bed dissatisfied with each other (in more ways than one); we spent the next day licking our wounds in private, unable to communicate happily with each other; but soon enough we emerged, unscathed.

And isn't that something? Just having that knowledge, a small nugget of goodness that I can hide away in my pocket, that I can store somewhere next to my soul: even Brad's craziness can't derail us. He can disrupt us--as can many other people/things/events--but he can't ruin us. We are so much stronger than that.

I don't say it enough, and I don't even think it enough, consciously. There is no one I would rather spend my minutes with. No one I would rather parent my children with. No one I would rather jump in the boat with. Here is a man I found on the whim of a blind date, 10 years and 1 month ago, a man who loves me completely, who argues with me passionately, and who forgives me easily. Serendipity; luck; karma--call it what you will. Who am I to deserve this man?

Daily, I am blown back off my feet by the incredible power of my love for my children. Daily, I gaze at them in wonder and awe, and feel humbled by just the fact of them. These perfect, unbelievable beings, beings whose very existence cause the earth to turn on its axis. This doesn't happen as often with Lance. But it should.

It should.

What I did over Christmas Vacation, by Isaac

First Mom and Dad ran around like crazy on the morning after Christmas, packing up all the warm clothes we own. Then we went to the airport and waited in line for a long time. Mom got me a hamburger and french fries and let me have a sip of her soda. Once we got on the airplane I had to sit in my carseat, but Vivian got to sit on Mommy's lap. I took a nice nap, and Mommy and Daddy said I was a really good boy. Vivi was a good girl, too.

When we finally got to Delaware, Grandy and Grandad were there. They have lots of new toys at their house. It was really cold, but Daddy gave me some gloves to wear. He said last year I wouldn't wear them, but this year I know that my hands will be cold if I don't. Daddy says I'm much smarter this year.



I have cousins named Sawyer and Kitchel, and they live in Delaware too. They come over and play with me a lot. In Delaware they have basements, downstairs, and it's really fun to play with the toys there.


Grandy and Grandad were really glad to see us. They said we grew a lot since we went to Hawaii.


One day a bunch of kids came over. Mom said they were my second cousins.


Then, another day, Daddy's brother Mark and his wife (the good ones) came and stayed with us. They live in Virginia but drove up to Delaware just to see us. I think they are really nice people. Maybe they can switch houses with my daddy's other brother.


Daddy had to go back to California to watch the Rose Bowl. Mommy and I rooted for the Trojans, but they didn't win. Daddy was too sad on the phone to talk to me.



Mommy has a friend named Susanna who lives in Delaware and she has a baby in her tummy. I tried to see the baby but I couldn't. Susanna said she would send me a picture of the baby when it comes out of her tummy. How does that baby come out of there? Susanna has a little girl named Stella who just turned three. Stella is hot! I think I love her.



Mommy and Daddy leave us with babysitters a lot in Delaware. Once they went with Uncle Chip, Leigh, Uncle Ed and Annie to New York City. They even rode the subway and a nice man took their photo. Daddy says we have subways in L.A., too, but I don't believe him.




They saw Chicago, and met Huey Lewis after the show. My great-aunt dated him a long long time ago, so we are practically related. Mommy said she and Ed were the only ones brave enough to get a photo.



Mommy and Daddy went out for sushi one night and left us with a babysitter too. Daddy couldn't believe they had sushi in Delaware! Even Grandy and Grandad went and ate some raw fish. I don't think I like sushi.



I really miss my Daddy. I told Mommy it was time to go back to California. She said she misses Daddy too, but he has to work hard to make money so we can eat.

Well, that's all so far. I'd tell you more but Mommy is making me take a nap. She doesn't like to wake up before 6am, but I do.

I want to stop, but it keeps getting better.

Here's the latest. (I didn't figure out the email blocking thing correctly, dammit.)

From Brad to me, he didn't cc anyone.

I'm sorry but I just can't help myself. I know you'll hand this one right off to Lance but it really bears asking. I'm pretty sure I know what Lance and Chip do all day. What better things do you do with the 50% of your time that my mom has your kids, besides mess with my brother's and my relationship?

Perhaps if you were busier with your family you wouldn't have so much time to play your mentally fragile and unstable games on your and my family. Lance couldn't explain what Marisa and I should be apologizing for. Can you?

I know. Petty and probably more helpful to your selfish cause than the peace it brings me to finally say it but something has to give here. Can you answer the question of what we owe you an apology for? Lance had to get up and leave the table because he was so frustrated with his inability to put his finger on it. I believe in today's note he actually asked me to think of something to apologize to you for.

Help me out. Help the (Last name) family out Amy (my maiden name). Or do you enjoy this?

My reply.

That's beautiful, Brad.

I wish you the best, and hope you get the professional help you sorely need. When you do, I'd be happy to lay out exactly what you need to apologize for.

However --- just for example's sake--you could apologize for the insults you've been slinging my way and Lance's way in this email and the others. Oh, and let's not forget that lovely voicemail. Those are just the tip of the iceberg, and the most obvious. If you were in a rational place, you would not need me to spell this out for you.

I hope you and your wife manage to have some sort of happy holiday. I also hope your mother and father are able to enjoy theirs, knowing the pain you have willingly and knowingly caused them and your own brother.

I've added your email address to my junk list, so there is no need to reply to this.

I am trying really hard to not get upset about this, as obviously that is his intention. Lance's parents are a complete wreck, but still maintaining their "don't talk about it, and it will go away" stance.

I tried--valiantly, I tried!--not to respond at all, but finally I had to. I now wish I hadn't.

Lance isn't home, and I'm not sure when I'm going to show him this latest round. I don't want to show it to him at all because I don't want to upset him, but I know I have to.

Happy Fucking Holidays!

(Please, dear god in heaven, whoever you may be, please let this be the last time I ever have to write anything about those assholes. PLEASE.)

Uh oh.

Last night, this happened. Lance and I were there. Sigh.


But, just to be that much more of an asshole, Thing One sent me this today:

Did you catch that game last night? I listened to the last 4 minutes coming home from the office. Our guys outscored your guys by 20 in the second half for a blowout victory. The 3,000 fans in attendance stormed the court afterwards.

Tim Floyd and a new arena could be a potent combination. Basketball and football; an embarrasment of riches.

Merry Christmas!


My first response was this: "The true embarrasment here is that we have to claim you as a family member." Since I couldn't send that, I sent this instead:

There is no one by the name of Amy (Lance's last name--I kept my maiden name) at this address. If there were, she certainly wouldn't respond to such a mean-spirited e-mail. Merry Christmas!

Does anyone know how to block an email address from outlook? It keeps telling me to click the organize button but I don't seem to have one.

Round Two--Update

Lance had lunch with Thing One yesterday in an attempt to settle things. It did not go well, and Lance left before the bill came. When he got back to the office, he sent him this:

Hey-

Sorry for being late. And sorry for bailing on the bill. You have become an extremely deflective and elusive person to communicate with. The conversations I've attempted to have with you and your wife recently have been the most frustrating ever. I am not sure what to do or say at this point...............


And Thing One responded with this charming missive*:

Not to worry. Hope you feel better. Happy to wait a half hour to buy you lunch again and hear about your perceptive take on my wife's and my faults. I'm trying very hard to stick to my no email policy but listening to you unload is more than I can let go quietly. If I didn't edit myself, you would really love the list of reasons that I find your accusation of us being self centered and demanding so ironic and humurous. However, I think you already know this and I also think that your knowledge of this fact is the main source of your frustration. I've told you numerous times and I will say it again. We completely support and understand your relationship with mom and dad and we absolutely endorse it without strings attached. I think it is wonderful that Amy is willing and able to share so much of your children's lives with mom. As we all used to agree, it takes much of the burdon off of Mark, Margaret, Marisa and me. Not that mom will want or receive the time of day from our children should things remain the way they are now. We have a separate issue with mom that has nothing to do with you. You guys should have no concerns regarding how we live our lives. We certainly are not spending any time worrying about how you live yours. Don't mistake that for lack of interest. It is only that we do not sit around and make judgements about you. We do not have the time, nor are we inclined to disparage and/or compete with our family. I'm sorry you all feel so certain that is not the case.

Please try to understand that we are not the least bit upset with any of you nor are we the slightest bit frustrated. We got over it a while back and we find it extremely unneccessary for you to be trying to rev things up again. It would be nice to see the family operate on a reasonably functional level without any pettiness, manipulation, power plays or lack of self confidence. I was going to fake reaching that point by diassociating myself largely from interactions with the disfunction. You seem unwilling to accept that. However, you also don't present any other reasonable solution. The current situation is embarrassing (another reason I avoid the three of you) and about as far from what Papa T would have wanted as possible. That is truly sad. I suggested to mom that all we want is her unbiased pride in her children and her unconditional love, without judgement or opinion (unless requested: doubtful). How is that an unreasonable or difficult request of one's own mother? In fact, I think eveyone could be much happier if we all held to this standard.

Please try to get over June 20 or at least find some additional fresher dirt. You've got to admit that 6 months is getting a little stale. Though I was thoroughly amazed by your ability to keep a straight, self righteous and indignant face as you suggested that my calling mom out on her "bullshit" was going to taint your childrens' virgin ears. That was truly remarkable and I enjoyed it much more than I conveyed. You're right, Marisa and I pose the threat of potentially ruinous negative influence on the kids. Maybe you should stick with mom and pursue the status quo.

I love that you found me elusive. I've been seeking that quality for some time. It's called a poker face and it is very good for negotiating. I've been accused of having mom's trait of being unable to keep my mouth shut (see paragraph 3 above) and I'm working hard to get rid of it. Thank you for the compliment.

Can't wait to see you both on Sunday. Mom says she is looking forward to the opportunity to start fresh. You don't want to miss out on that do you?

For better or worse,

Your brother :-)


Sunday there is a large family Christmas party at my mother-in-law's home. Lance's older brother and his wife have flown in from Virginia to attend. Thing One and Thing Two will be there.

I'm really looking forward to it, as you might imagine.


*The email was sent at 7:21 pm, but he cc'd his father, his older brother and wife, and Lance at their work emails. He did not cc his mother.


Update: I know, I owe everyone an update. The party was fine, and awful. There were many people there, which made it easy enough to avoid Thing One and Thing Two. I had to say hello and endure a hug from Thing One, but I tried to make my "Oh, wonderful to see you, too, Brad. As always" as sarcastic as possible. I managed to avoid Queen Bitchiness* the whole evening, thankfully, and only had to swoop in and direct my children away from her once. Lance had to say hello to both of them but that was the extent of it. We both enjoyed ourselves with the other members of the family.

And still, it sucks balls. It's not exactly fun, avoiding people. It's not exactly cheerful, wanting to punch someone in the face. It's not exactly heartening, knowing that your own flesh and blood goes out of his way to say and do hurtful things to you, for no reason. Those two will never apologize, will never treat Lance and my mother-in-law with love or respect, and there is nothing I can do about it.

*Lance thinks it does a disservice to Dr. Seuss to use his terms for my in-laws, and I tend to agree. So I may come up with some new ones. Like--Spineless and Mrs. Wench. Or something.

To set the record straight

I feel like I've been bitching about my mother-in-law an awful lot lately, and I really shouldn't. She is actually a wonderful woman, in many ways. She is incredibly generous, and baby-sits whenever we need to. She loves my children as much as I do. She puts up with the fact that I refuse to take her last name, although this causes her much embarrassment in her circle of friends. She is patient with me when I get angry at Thing One and Thing Two, and lets me rant and rave, without defending them too staunchly. Yes, she can be annoying and she often says things in a less than tactful way. She has very different ideals than I do. But I am confident that she loves us, and would never intentionally hurt us in any way. And I feel lucky to have that, in a mother-in-law.

Then there's Isaac. He, too, can be annoying. And yes, he is going through a very defiant, obnoxious phase that I am having difficulty dealing with. But despite all that, he really is a wonderful, happy little boy.

Yesterday, both children woke up early complaining of ear-aches, so we spent much of the morning at the doctor's office. We waited in the sick waiting room for about 35 minutes, among the other ill children, who mostly sat quietly next to their parents. Isaac does not sit still, even when he is sick, so he ran around the room, from toy to sick kid to toy, exclaiming at the top of his voice, "Look at this toy, Mom! I'm sharing this one! Look, there's a baby! I see that little girl, Mom! Here, Vivi, come play with this toy! No, I want that toy, Viv! Here, you take this one." For 35 minutes he ran rampant in the room, so excited to be there, with new toys to play with and new children to meet. At one point, another little girl, about 3 or 4 years old, snapped at him, "No! I want this toy! It's mine!" but he just smiled and said, "Look at this kitchen, little girl! Do you want to help me?" She ignored him for a bit, but he was insistent: "Do you want to help me with this? Do you? See the kitchen? Here, help me." And eventually, she did. All the other parents in the room were smiling by the time we were called into see the doctor--it was impossible not too, he was just so happy.

I love that he is so easily excited by what life has to offer him. I love that he is so friendly and that he is not put off when other kids don't take to him immediately. Yes, he is rambunctious, and yes he has his challenges, but he's also quite charming.

0 for 2

Lance's grandparents belonged the Los Angeles Country Club for many many years, and although his grandfather died a few years ago, his grandmother ("Nana") remains a member. Every year, the LACC puts on a Christmas show for the children of their members. Apparently, my mother-in-law (Linda) used to take my husband and his brothers to the show every year, though Lance claims to have no real memory of this. For the past few years, my mother-in-law has wanted to re-create these memories with her grandchildren.

Aside: my mother-in-law is an interesting and at times infuriating person, but her heart is generally in the right place. One thing about her: she takes it personally whenever Lance and I raise our kids in a way that is not exactly the same as how she did it. She saved all the toys from when her sons were growing up, and these are what my children play with at her house. She even buys old toys on e-Bay, claiming that toys "these days" are useless. She has given me clothes that Lance wore as a child for Isaac. She is not Catholic, but since her boys went to Catholic school, she is appalled that we are not considering it, and makes comments about this whenever she gets a chance. The party at the LACC is just another facet of this personality "quirk" of hers: she wants my children to have the exact same childhood as her children did, and her children went to this party, so my children must.

The party at the LACC is complete and utter hell. Imagine a room filled with 200 spoiled blonde kids ages 0 to 14 running around willy nilly in their expensive clothes. Then add the 400 parents and grandparents, all dressed to the nines, trying to be social while the kids run amok. The temperature in the room is 90 degrees. The line to sit on Santa's lap is hours long, and takes even longer than the ones in the mall since here, the parents take the photo. Which, in this environment, means that each parent takes about 50 shots, making sure to get just the right one. No consideration, at all, for the people in line behind them. Random children run through the shot because their parents don't bother trying to rein them in, or teach them manners. In the midst of the madhouse are two "elves", who make balloon shaped animals for kids. Balloons which pop loudly. Kids demand 3 and 4 balloons each, and it doesn't matter who else is waiting in line for one. Other little charmers take their candy cane shaped balloons and bang the face of the elf repeatedly, even after their father says weakly, "Okay, Madison, that's enough."

Trying to corral two toddlers in this mess was challenging, as you might imagine. The show starts at 4, but my mother-in-law insisted that we get there early, around 3:15, to be sure we got a good seat. That means I have to start getting the kids ready at 2:15 or so--right in the middle of naptime. Isaac didn't nap at all. Vivian had just fallen into a deep sleep when I had to wake her. We got lost (of course!) on the way there, and Isaac almost fell asleep in the car. Once there, my usually boisterous son was completely undone by the chaos. He didn't want to sit with me, he didn't want to wait for Santa, he thought he wanted a balloon, but it took too long. My mother-in-law tried to take him outside for a few minutes, but they had roped off the fountain and encouraged everyone to stay inside. He was seconds away from tears the whole afternoon. Nana was there, too. She is a wonderful woman, but she has Alzheimer's and is very unsteady on her feet, so really Linda and I were babysitting her as well. Vivian, to my surprise, didn't seem overwhelmed at all, and even laughed and giggled with some other children, instead of hiding her face in my legs. But this did not work in my favor, since she was constantly trying to explore other areas of the room, and I had to run after her, catch her when her new Mary Janes tripped her up, and keep her from stepping on any other children, or cutting in the Santa line. All
this, while still keeping an eye out for Isaac.

At some point, they started setting up for the "show" (a juggler and some marionettes). All the kids took a seat on the floor in front of the stage. At that moment I was chasing Vivian, and Linda was sitting with Nana and Isaac. Suddenly I looked up to see Isaac in the middle of the "stage", inspecting the microphone stand. Linda was nowhere to be seen. I tried to call him back, but he couldn't hear me over the din of a thousand children. I had to step over twenty kids, holding Vivian on my hip, until I finally made my way to him and explained that he needed to be on the sides of the stage, with the other children. The juggler rolled his eyes at me and snorted "Jesus!" under his breath as I apologized and whisked Isaac away.

The show was fine, the kids were interested for about 10 minutes and then I had to distract them both for the next 30 minutes while it dragged on and on. Afterwards, a stampede of children and adults swarmed past us, headed for the dining room. Linda insisted we head back there too: they hand out cookies!, she said. We always used to get cookies! Fortunately a nice gentlemen informed her that there would be no cookies until after dinner this year, and so we were allowed to leave. Which was REALLY fun, since now it was 5 pm in Los Angeles. The 5.6 mile distance from the club to my home? A one hour drive.

The thing that kills me the most about our whole debacle? The exact same thing happened last year. Pure hell, every minute of it. So I knew what I was getting into, but had to grin and bear it anyway, just to placate Linda. I deserve so many medals for daughter-in-law of the year! Just like last year, as we made our way out to the cars, Linda apologized for all the confusion, and said, "Next year it will be more fun, the kids will be older. We can probably stay for dinner then."

Yeah. Just what would make the afternoon that much more enjoyable: to stay and eat dinner in a crowded dining room where Vivian would spill the water and Isaac would not want to sit still. Where the food would be ridiculously expensive and un-appetizing. Where the kids menu would not offer anything that was not made with dairy or peanuts. Where it would still be 90 degrees and I would be required to smile and make small talk with any number of well-dressed, wealthy moms who look much more put together than I could ever imagine and are prettier and younger than I am too.

Ah, Christmas.

Last year:
This year:

The Evil Empire Strikes Again

Following is the text from an e-mail I composed to my sister-in-law Friday night. I can't really bear to go through the whole drama again, but I think it's clear enough from my e-mail what went on.

I have not sent it, and I probably won't, since Lance doesn't want me to.

Dear Thing Two:
I wish you had respected my wishes the other night and sent me an email, rather than causing an ugly confrontation over the phone.

I wish you had not been rude, condescending and unpleasant to Lance on that phonecall.

I wish you had listened to what he was telling you, instead of talking over him.

I wish Thing One had not resorted to childish name-calling in the insulting voicemail message he left for Lance on Friday.

I wish that the two of you had been willing to sit down and have a rational, mature adult conversation with us so that we could clear the air--when we first suggested it, months ago.

I wish you would not claim that you have "always been willing" to do this, when just a month ago Thing One wrote "we are not interested in 'breaking it down live'" in an insufferable email that I wish he had not sent.

I wish when you say that you are offering an olive branch, I could find it, since we have not heard a word from you in 6 months, other than a horrifyingly immature email exchange and a few insulting and wildly fake offerings.

I wish that I would have the opportunity to discuss these points with you in person rather than over email.

I wish you didn't believe that we are "out to get you", or trying to "make something dramatic out of nothing" when all we have ever asked is that we all go out to dinner.

I wish Thing One didn't sink to the level of throwing our son's health into the mix, which has no bearing on our conversation and is none of your business--not to mention being a low, low blow.

I wish you could realize what a great and wonderful time we have with Lance's side of the family, and what you are missing out on. I am sure if you ever do realize this, it will be too late.

I wish you would open your eyes and see that no one has anything against either one of you, that none of us have done anything but try to welcome you and make you comfortable, that all any of us want is pleasant family time.

I wish Trent and Linda didn't turn the other cheek when your behavior is blatantly offensive.

I wish we didn't invite you to my daughter's first birthday party.

I wish you could hear me when I say: Linda has never "poisoned us" against you, in any way. In fact, she has been your biggest defender.

I wish that this email would not fall on deaf ears, as have all attempts at communication.

I wish that you would not twist and manipulate it to fit into your paradigm but rather take it at face value.

I wish you the best. However I have no desire to see or hear from you again until you can behave like a mature, considerate adult, and until both you and Thing One apologize to Lance, to me, and to our children.

Sincerely,
Amy

Lance was pretty aggravated by the whole episode on Friday (and well he should have been: among other things, Thing One called him a scum-bag) but by the time I returned on Monday, he seemed to be over it. He claims to have written them off, but he still doesn't want me to send the email, on the grounds that it won't do any good, as they won't read it, won't believe it, and will twist it all around anyway. He is right about that, I know. Still, I hate that once again, Thing One and Thing Two get to behave like assholes, and the rest of us just have to "rise above" and let it happen.

Breaking the Seal

Remember when I told you some secrets? And I said I wouldn't talk about Thing One and Thing Two again? Well, I just can't help myself.

So. After the feeding-the-grandmother-chicken-noodle-soup-instead-of-the-doctor-recommended-Ensure episode, there were several more in a similar vein. For example, one night in the hospital room, Thing One and Thing Two were there, with Uncle and Aunt, and a priest. After some pleasant discussions, Aunt and Uncle suggested they all leave the priest alone with grandmother. Aunt and Uncle walked out of the room. Thing One & Two followed--until they got to the door, when they closed it, remaining in the room with grandmother and priest.

Next came Vivian's birthday. We had heard through the grapevine that Thing One & Thing Two were not coming, because they were not going to talk to my mother-in-law until she apologized to Thing Two. (For what? Well, she told Thing Two that it was not really her place to decide what grandmother should eat, given that a doctor had already given explicit instructions.)

Anyway, Thing One and Thing Two did show up, about 1/2 hour late. They refused to look or speak to my mother-in-law and were so blatantly rude I had a hard time not slapping them. And slapping my husband and father-in-law for not calling them on it. Then they took a walk on the beach for about 45 minutes, came back for 10 minutes, again being as rude as possible, and left.

I LOATHE THEM. And I am not allowed to say anything to them! Every time I try, my husband cuts me off completely. Or my father-in-law changes the subject. When I try to discuss it with my mother-in-law, she gives excuse after excuse for their behavior. No one holds them accountable for their actions. I can't tell you the number of times I have wanted to shout during a family get-together: "Are you seriously going to treat your mother this way? Did you really just say that? And your dad isn't throwing you out of the house??" But I can't. They are not my family, after all, and I can't start a family feud that my in-laws are doing everything in their power to avoid. Not to mention that whenever I do slip, and let something snide come out, Lance and I end up arguing about it. As my mom said, allowing those two idiots to cause any strife in my marriage would be beyond stupid. So I try really hard to respect my in-laws' and my husbands' decision to "rise above".

Why am I telling this story now? Well, here's another story for you: Every Christmas for the last several years, my sister has made a photo calendar for everyone in the family. The calendar has photos of her kids, and all of us, and is really fun to have around, especially since I don't see my family but a few times a year. Two Christmases ago, Isaac was one, so I made a similar calendar, gifting one to each family member. Everyone got two calendars that year, since Ann also made hers. Last Christmas, I made no calendar, thinking I'd get one from Ann. Unfortunately, she thought the same thing, which meant no calendars for anyone. (Yeah, we need to work on our communication skills.) After Christmas, I made my own. In the interest of being fair, I even included a photo of Isaac with Thing One and Thing Two. Guess which picture is on the July page? Right, so now every day I get to look at those two assholes and remember how ridiculous they act, how horribly they treat people who have done nothing but love them, and how they always get away with it.

The good news is that the other night Isaac got his spaghetti-covered hands all over the picture. Now I just need him to draw some devil horns . . .

Shhh!

I feel a need to tell a story or two about some people in my life. These people are related to me by marriage and they are not what you would call friends. The only reason they are in my life is the sad and unbreakable fact that they are related to me by marriage.

The thing is, I promised myself I would not discuss them here. For one, it is disrespectful to my husband, although he feels the same way as I do, with the added ratfuck that he still loves one of them, since he is related by blood. For two, what if they stumbled across this blog? For three, and perhaps most importantly, I am afraid that once I start I will be unable to stop. There are stories I could tell about these two, people. And I mean storieS. Sadly, as desperate as I am to vent about these two, I fear that after the first couple stories, you, my loyal lonely readers, will become bored bored bored and leave me for greener pastures.

But still. I must. I must. I must.

My husband's grandmother, Nana, is ill. She is 89 years old, has either beginning Alzheimer's or dementia and was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. She is a wonderful woman who has lived a long and happy life. Her husband died a year ago of the same cancer.

My husband's younger brother, Thing One, is almost 30 years old. He was married a year and a half ago to a princess, Thing Two, who is 26 years old. They both have an incurable intestinal disorder. Thing One has had several surgeries and is on some kind of medication for it. Thing Two's is much less severe. They are strange people. Both very immature and incredibly self-centered. Ego-centric, really.

Since before they were married, Thing One and Thing Two have spent a lot of time with Nana. My personal feeling is that they are comfortable around her because they can control her. She is not entirely with it, so they can tell her what to do. Control is big for these people.

Okay, so before I get too involved in this, here is the story I want to tell. This story is completely typical of the way these two act, which is the reason there is much animosity between them and the rest of the clan.

Nana had three sons, who have gone on to have 14 children among them. Friday, Nana was sent home from the doctor's with instruction to drink two cans of Ensure on Sunday evening and come to the hospital Monday morning for surgery to remove a cancerous tumor from her colon. Sunday evening one of Nana's sons arrived at the house to find Thing One and Thing Two feeding her a bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Now, here's the kicker. Thing One and Thing Two were well aware of the doctor's orders. They had the piece of paper with the instructions clearly written on it. They had told the uncles that they would love to stay with Nana and take care of her until someone came to spend the night. AND, when questioned about the chicken noodle soup, they claimed that the doctors didn't know what they were talking about, and there was no reason Nana couldn't have chicken noodle soup.

Further, when the uncles got pissed off about this, Thing One and Thing Two acted completely put out, as if they were the victims. They were only trying to help, and everyone else was being ridiculous, and mean to them!

Gah.

Please tell me on what planet it would be appropriate for the 26 year old in-law (who is NOT A DOCTOR) to decide what medical instructions the grandmother should follow. And without bothering to ask the sons of said grandmother! The arrogance, rudeness, idiocy of these two is without equal.

I could tell you more stories. Here's one: Thing One was a groomsman in our wedding. He overslept and arrived at the rehearsal dinner 2 hours late. We had the pictures taken before the ceremony, and he arrived 45 minutes late, wearing the wrong color jacket (the men were supposed to wear grey suits).

But now I must stop. NO MORE.



Though I do have another secret.

This week there is not enough money in my checking account or either savings account for me to buy groceries. Southern California is expensive, especially with two in diapers, and only one income.