So, I'm visiting with my parents for Passover, and what fun it is! We got here on Sunday. To get here, we were forced to use a commercial airline (what with the private jet being in the shop and all), and wasn't that a joy. We got settled in our seats, and about ten minutes into the flight, the woman in front of D. turns around and very politely asks Mr. WG, "Could you please get your son to stop kicking me?" Mr. WG tells her, "No." She is clearly stunned, so he keeps going. "Well, I mean, I wish I could, but I can't get him to understand me. He's only three. If you have kids, you know that he's really big for a three year old." So she VERY politely says, "OK, I understand. I have two children. No problem."
Mr. WG irritates me sometimes. This lady made a perfectly legitimate request in a polite, respectful way, and I would have handled it differently. I was seated across the aisle with Z., though, so I tried to breathe deeply and ignore it all.
We landed and deplaned and had lunch and got to my parents' Museum of Fine Arts and Highly Breakable Objects house. And the kids are going somewhat nuts, and I say to my mom, "Those wine bottles are kind of low, ain't?" (That's a real Pennsylvania Dutch expression. I use those when I'm around my family.) She says, "Yeah, we were thinking of moving them, but we didn't."
How long do you think it took before Baby J. broke a bottle?
And D., my poor D. Whatever he does, my dad tells him no, and he gets really sad and scared and just stands there really quietly for a while. This morning, he went into the garage and took my dad's tape measure. From on top of the fridge. My dad saw it and yelled at him. He says, "How did he get it?" I said, "He can smell them. At home we just gave him his own since they cost, like, $5." My father says, "But how did he get it FROM ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE?" I said, "He's a great climber." My father says, "So was your cousin."
Dude. What the hell? Are you trying to say something about my kid?
It's been kind of like that the whole time.
I miss my house and my stuff. And bread.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Ignore me, I'm cranky
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7 comments:
Oh God. I feel for you.
I am delurking to say I miss bread too! I live in the same town as my parents so there is no plane ride for Pesach, but my Grandmother comes in for the seder and the first half of the week before going to my Uncle's for the end so I spend most days at my parents' house with my 20-month-old saying, "CAREFUL!" and "Don't TOUCH!" And redirecting for 8 hours a day. I cackled out loud when I read the line about Museum of Fine Arts and Highly Breakable Objects. Despite repeatedly telling my parents not to let my daughter play with their laptops, she single clickedy took down their home network last night. And somehow it is my fault ;)
Thanks for the giggle.
Deep breaths, hon. Visiting family is just like that. I'll be in the same situation this weekend.
I hope you made it through the weekend unscathed!
Oy vey! Sometimes visiting with the family is more chore than pleasure, aint?
So about bread and Passover... I moved cross country to be close to my family the 2nd day of Passover and since I have been gone 10 years, Passover to me has been seder only and I have forgotten all the "don't eat bread" rules so there I was eating pretzels in the house and when I was asked to get some takeout, I came home with sub sandwiches that my parents couldn't eat and I shouldn't eat because I totally forgot! Now that I live close by I need to become a better, more observant Jew.
Okay :) I actually did read your whole blog. There isn't much i can comment on, since i don't have children myself, neither am I Jewish, but sometimes you really made me laugh out loud and I just want to let you know how much I appreciate your sense of humor and your strenght. Also, excuse my grammar faults, I'm Bulgarian :D
Apropos, apparently we do share mothers, who think they need various kinds of glass-objects and high-quality wood and leather furniture noone ever uses piled up in rooms noone ever enters, because you know, it all looks pretty, but is highly uncomfortable.
Have a nice trip back home. I'll be reading you regularly.
I only don't write about when my dad criticizes my children because he reads my blog religiously.
But trust me, I know how "wonderful" that feels too.
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