desperate in dc
desperate in dc

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Pre-Teen Scorned

June 12th, 2010 : No Comments »

Dear C,

Remember how I was just telling you over tea this afternoon that my new philosophy in life is to only make choices that make my life LESS hellish, not more? It all so seemed simple, didn’t it? When weighing up two competing options, one of which would result in disappointment or inconvenience to a family member or friend, and the other in additional stress or inconvenience to me, I was henceforth always going to choose the former.

The breathtaking simplicity of this solution was enough to bring tears to my eyes. It was all so self-evident, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. After all, it wasn’t as if the rest of the world was falling over itself to do me a favor. One had only how to look at how my friend, S had the unfailing ability to palm her children off on me while on vacation, without so much as a whiff of reciprocation, to see what a carefree, untroubled existence those with good boundaries lead. No wonder the OBC always finds her so charmingly laidback and unruffled!

Alas, I had failed to contend with the thorny problem of my pre-teen when I made this pronunciation. No sooner had I taken the decision NOT to agree to take her best friend to the beach with us next week – a journey that would require the cancellation of 3 appointments on my part to accommodate her availability – than said pre-teen fled to her room and burst into loud, gut-wrenching sobs. Judging by the wailing coming from her room, I had just killed her pet rabbit and was now systematically boiling it for dinner. The sobbing continued long after I had retreated to my bedroom and locked the door, intending to ignore the storm until it had passed. After all, she and I both knew she was faking it.

Half an hour and one shower later, the wailing from her room was still audible over the sound of my hair dryer. I decided to face the guilt like a man, head on. I knocked on pre-teen’s daughter.

I have to admit, she was good. Instead of screaming at me that I had ruined her life, she merely accused me of always putting my friends first – a fact that is truer than I care to admit. She also accused me of never following through on any promises. Again, completely true.

The upshot of our conversation is that the OBC and I are now driving two very happy pre-teens 11 hours each way for a beach vacation that lasts all of 4 days (to fit in with friend’s family schedule).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to cancel 3 appointments.

P.


Tags: , , , ,
Posted in DC, Family Values

Re: Hell Hath No Fury Like a Pre-Teen Scorned

June 11th, 2010 : No Comments »

Darling P,

I was fully prepared to lecture you about establishing good boundaries with your children and not allowing their petty manipulations to sway your good judgment in matters they cannot fully understand.  Which, unless I’ve missed an important detail in your saga, is exactly what you should do.  My situation, however, is entirely different and requires, I think, another approach.

My own teenage daughter, who jetted off to Paris with her grandparents just last week, insisted she longed to communicate with us via Skype while there.  I smiled smugly inside as it isn’t every parent who has a teenager who likes them enough to take time away from a European holiday to call home.

I waited patiently for a day and then tried to Skype at an appropriate moment.  I failed, after several tries and days of effort to ever reach daughter–even after sending many pleading emails to pick a moment that worked for her.  Nothing.  No response to email, no slightly annoying ringing Skype tone to answer.

Finally, in a last ditch effort to be close to my darling cherub, I bounded into her room and flung myself on her four-poster bed hoping, at the very least, her smell remained in its covers.  Instead, I felt a lump under the mattress and reached to remove the offending object.  It was, in fact, daughter’s brand new Macbook Pro.  Not only had daughter misrepresented her intentions and desire to communicate with us, she was so determined NOT to communicate that she left her very favorite object d’amour (that I guarantee) behind to avoid it.  In addition, and most offensive to a mother who loves technology but always invests in her children first, she hid the damn thing from me–knowing full well that I would have used it blissfully for the ten days she is away.

The mature response would be, I think,  to simply discuss the situation directly after her return and make her see how deeply wounded is her mother, who did after all give her life and the laptop.  Instead, I returned the laptop to its hiding spot and won’t mention anything at all. 

I wonder how long it will take her to ask me for the password I created to use the machine?  Since she does seem to be a tiny bit like her mother, I will prohibit our computer guy from taking her pleading calls.  Game, set, match is, after all, what it’s all about, right P?

C.


Posted in Domestic Bliss, Family Values, Technologically Speaking

IQED

November 17th, 2009 : No Comments »

Dear C,

I am hoping you can help with a little marital dispute the oldballandchain and I seem to be having (shocking, I know).

It has recently come to my attention that my IQ is three points higher than his. Never mind that this knowledge was acquired during the course of an at-home intelligence test administered by the twins; or that the results are most likely within the margin of statistical error, resulting from one or two lucky guesses on my part. (The oldballandchain doesn’t need to know that part). The fact remains, dear C, that by this measure, at least, I am objectively smarter than my spouse, which I believe entitles me to the final word in most matters. Wouldn’t you agree?

Imagine how much simpler and more pleasant life would be if only the OBC simply concurred with all plans and requests (alright, orders), instead of resisting with the kind of knee-jerk stubbornness which reminds me why I never want a two-year old again? Think what joy those four little words: ‘Whatever you say, honey’ or ‘You are so right, dear,’ would bring. If only the OBC would agree concur with everything I say, want or do, our marriage would be perfect, and the whole family would be happier, as a result.

Of course, the fact that I continue to rely on the OBC as our main breadwinner is troubling, but hardly surprising, given that girls consistently outperform boys across the board on academic tests, before embarking on marriage, motherhood and a life of multitasking that leaves no time for the lofty, but single-minded business of actually ruling the world.

Naturally, the OBC disputes the results, and is busily researching further intelligence tests for us both to take as I write. Fortunately, if his traditional lack of follow-through is anything to go by, he will do what he always does when I ask him to fix something around the house, and rush out to buy all the requisite materials, then never quite complete the job.

Assuming this is the case, I would be more than happy to pass these materials along for you to make your case with hubby as well.

P.


Tags: , , ,
Posted in Educating the Masses

Re: IQED

November 17th, 2009 : No Comments »

Darling P,

Really shocked to discover you don’t already know that hubby already agrees with everything I say.  In fact, he often fails to allow me to finish a complete thought before declaring I am “absolutely right”  while returning, head bobbing in consent, to his blackberry. 

The problem, of course, is that he hears not one single word I’ve uttered but has learned, much like our darling dog who shall not be named, that submission is truly the only path of success in this household.  Occasionally, but only so, he will declare that I know “every fucking thing” or some such hogwash as a way to assert a measure of resistance to my decisions.  As soon as I immediately offer to hand off  “every fucking thing” to him, however, he quickly retreats.

I worry that any objective so-called IQ tests would only muddy the already cloudy waters of our delicate balance of power.  What if, in fact, hubby  proved himself the more capable one?  I fear that I would simply retort with a battery of emotional intelligence tests that might damage his already limited capacity for caring for me and the cherubs.

In case it isn’t already clear enough, darling P, I think must state quite frankly that I would be happy to meet hubby on almost any stage of competitive play.  The sad fact, however,  is that I would have no regard for anything or anyone (read: the cherubs) if we started down that potentially thorny path.  I would win, frankly, at any cost.  Just don’t think I’m prepared to let him know that–at least not yet.

C.


Posted in Educating the Masses

My Darling, My Soulmate

November 16th, 2009 : No Comments »

Dear C,

It has come to my attention, once again, that not everyone in this world considers us to be two separate people. The first time it happened, you will recall, was when a reader stumbled across our correspondence and asserted her belief that only one person was writing both sides of our intimate exchange. Thrilled as I was to discover that you and I might be considered two halves of the same orange (a thought that has often crossed my mind, but was never expressed, for fear it would come across as well, creepy), I was nevertheless alarmed to think that anyone could consider either one of us narcissistic enough to invent the other for the sole purpose of communication. You and I may be single-minded in our pursuit of fame and fortune, dear C, but we are at least outward-looking enough to care what each other has to say, if not our husbands and children.

The second case of mistaken identity occurred this morning, as I endured the brutal attentions of D., our beautiful but sadistic Pilates instructor. There I lay, with my feet hiked over my head in those wondrous furry stirrups on the aptly named Reformer, doing my best to sweat my way to redemption, when what do I hear but D, barking orders at ‘C’ to ‘contract your pelvic floor muscles – harder.’

Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you depart for a quick holiday shopping trip to NYC several days ago? Naturally, I looked around the studio to double-check, before responding on your behalf. Never mind that you are a couple of inches taller and several pounds lighter than me (dammit) or that I am a chemically enhanced blonde while you are a natural brunette. It’s enough to make me wonder why I expend so much time and money on exercise and highlights, not to mention so much discipline NOT eating, when no-one else, apparently even notices the difference.

Then it occurred to me. Since your hubby and cherubs share many of the same needs as me and mine, might I propose an informal wife swap, by way of an experiment? Pretend to be me for a week or so, while I take off for sunnier climes, and I promise to do the same for you. It just might be a win-win situation for everyone.

In the meantime, hurry back, dear C. It’s getting hard dealing with the oldballandchain’s demands, let alone those of D. and our assorted offspring, for the both of us.

P. or is it C?


Tags: , , , , ,
Posted in Double Trouble
« Older Entries