Your Logical Argument Is Jetting Away

, , , , , | Related | November 23, 2017

(I am driving with my three-year-old daughter in the backseat. It is about noon, and the sky is almost completely cloudless. My daughter notices contrails from a jet in the sky.)

Daughter: “Mommy, is that a falling star?”

Me: “No, honey. That is from a jet.”

(We go back and forth a couple times; she keeps insisting that it’s a falling star.)

Daughter: “Mommy, can you see the jet?”

Me: “No, honey; it’s very far away.”

Daughter: “Well, if you can’t see the jet, you can’t prove that it’s not a falling star.”

(Now, what do you say to that?)

Certainly Driving That Point Home

, , , , , | Related | November 23, 2017

(I’m about eight years old, but thanks to a dysfunctional family, I’m very mature for my age. My family goes to visit our cousins in their house, and it’s like a palace to me. Instead of a cramped, roach-infested apartment, they have a two-story house with a fireplace. Their house has beautiful, obviously new things, while our house has old things from a yard sale. Their daughter is about my age, but is an only child, so she has the best toys that actually work, and no older siblings to bully her. Her parents are always talkative and energetic, while my mom lays in her bed and cries all day due to depression and my dad goes out and drinks at bars. Needless to say, I’m EXTREMELY envious of their daughter, who is like a princess to me. Plus, she’s very friendly, unlike my siblings. When it’s time to go, this happens:)

Me: “Please! I don’t want to go back!”

Mom: *extremely embarrassed* “Stop being a nuisance; you have to go with us!”

Me: “But their house is so big and ours is so tiny!”

(Dad just turns red and says nothing.)

Mom: “Uh, you can’t just stay!”

Me: “I want to stay!” *cries*

Mom: “You’ll have to work and clean dishes and such. It isn’t so easy to stay!”

Me: “I’ll do it! I don’t care!”

(They finally dragged me out of there, crying hard and screaming. My cousins said nothing, only looked concerned. I was a really quiet child, so I guess they were shocked. I held a lot of resentment against them for not realizing and helping me, but as the years went by, things got better. My dad stopped drinking and got a better job and an actual house, and my mom tried to be more involved in her kids’ lives. I haven’t spoken about that incident with them because I am so embarrassed about how humiliating I was, but maybe it was a wakeup call for them.)

Mothering A Soon-To-Be Mother

, , , , , , , | Related | November 23, 2017

(Because I am showing signs of preeclampsia, my doctor decides to induce me. My mom comes from two states away to be there for the delivery, but I honestly wish she would have stayed away because she cannot behave herself.)

Mom: *jumping up and fondling my belly at the first signs of contractions* “I just hated people touching me when I was having contractions!”

(My husband sees the murderous glint in my eyes and turns to his mom, making a suggestion before I can say anything.)

Husband: “Ma? Why don’t you take our DVD player and you two go watch a movie in the waiting room? We’ll probably be here a while.”

(My mother-in-law catches the aura of pure pregnancy-hormone-enhanced rage coming from me while my mom continues her assault on my abdomen)

Mother-In-Law: “That’s a good idea. [Mom], let’s go out to the waiting room.”

Mom: *still oblivious* “We’re okay in here; aren’t we?”

Husband: “But you were saying you hadn’t watched [Movie] yet, and we brought it. Maybe you’d like a coffee or something while you watched it? And it’s so much quieter in the waiting room.”

Mother-In-Law: *talking my mom by the arm and firmly leading her away* “Coffee sounds great.”

(Later, when the OB/GYN is explaining the situation and recommending a C-section, my mom decides the Q&A is open-forum:)

Me: “What are the odds of labor progressing normally?”

OB-GYN: “I’d give it about 20%, but the longer you wait the more likely we are to see irreparable brain trauma because of oxygen deprivation.”

Husband: “What are the other options?”

OB-GYN: “Honestly? It’s either a nice, leisurely C-section now or an emergency one later.”

Mom: *deciding she’s going to ask the REAL questions* “And how soon can they go back to having sex?” *turning to me* “If you go with a natural labor, you can start having sex again sooner!”

OB-GYN: *ushering everyone out of the room when she sees the glint in my eye* “Okay. Why don’t we let them have some time to discuss this between themselves?”

(In all honesty, it takes us two seconds to decide; our sex life is far less of a priority than our son’s well-being! While I am in recovery and my husband is giving our son his first bath and helping with first shots, my mom is in the waiting room pacing and assaulting everyone wearing scrubs with demands of my condition when they walk by. Every time they explain that they don’t know, but that I am probably still in recovery because anaesthesia takes time to wear off, she becomes more agitated until:)

Mom: *after being told that the staff she is harassing didn’t know my condition* “You’re lying to me! You all just don’t want to tell us she died on the table! TELL ME WHAT’S HAPPENING!”

(They had to ask my husband to leave our son to assure her that I was still alive and, as the staff had said, still in recovery waiting until I could wiggle my toes. I’ve made a mental note to not tell her when I’m in labor if I ever have another child.)

Putting The XP Into Experience Points

, , , , , | Related | November 22, 2017

(I grew up on the Final Fantasy series, but stopped playing games from that franchise around #8, and lost track of them entirely around #10. My brother’s in the kitchen one night, discussing upcoming game purchases. Note that his style of humor is quite deadpan, while I’m not great at social cues to begin with, so if there’s an in-joke here, I wouldn’t even pick up on it.)

Brother: “I’m having trouble deciding whether to buy Final Fantasy XIII, XIII-2, or XIII-3.”

Me: “Have they been taking their counting lessons from Microsoft?”

Dry Wit Runs In The Family

, , , , , , , | Related | November 22, 2017

(My thirteen-year-old daughter has just told me she’s feeling under the weather.)

Me: *feeling her forehead* “Ah, wow, why are you so hot?”

Daughter: *deadpan* “Genetics.”

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