Happy mommy's day.
My grandmother's move back home from California has created way too many opportunities for extended family togetherness. Witness today's fiasco:
1. The bad-ass children whose parents don't believe in discipline because it "stifles creativity." They ran around the restaurant while their parents sat and ignored them.
2. The incessant hockey talk. Yes, the Wild are doing well. Let's move on.
3. The complete disrespect for anything outside their conception of a "normal" career. Namely, me. My uncles tag-teamed me with the you-have-no-work-ethic, you're-getting-a-Ph.D.-in-burger-flipping taunts today. As they do every time they see me.
Shit, at least come up with new material, guys. I can practically recite along with you. As the sole academic amongst us, I seem to be the only one who deserves to be teased about her career. The rest of the cousins have decided to do something useful with their lives. Glad to know I'm a valuable part of the family. I offered to help a cousin with his basic stats course, as I taught a lab for stats in undergrad. My uncle promptly handed me the check for dinner and said "here. make yourself useful. split this up."
I know I should stop whining and enjoy the fact that I HAVE family, but they make me feel like shit every time I see them.
So, I've got an idea. On the "don't get mad, get even" front, next family gathering I'll give them what they want: a nice, normal, Allen-style life course. I'll tell them I've met the man of my dreams and am dropping out of grad school to work for the county and have his baby out of wedlock. I'm moving to a trailer park out in the boonies, and trading in my kayak for a fishing dinghy. I'll come to every one of my cousins' hockey games, poorly behaved child in tow. I'll cook huge, meat-filled dinners for my family every night, and eat them with gusto. Afterward, I'll do the washing up while nominally minding the poorly-behaved child so that my man can take it easy and watch hockey on the fucking television. Come hell or high water, the poorly behaved child will grow up to play hockey in college. I know this because I will spend most of my adult life carting him around to practice, because I'll work only part time while he's growing up so that my man can bring home the bacon.
Fuck this shit. I'm just not going to the next gathering. I'm not a good enough actress to pull that one off.
My grandmother's move back home from California has created way too many opportunities for extended family togetherness. Witness today's fiasco:
1. The bad-ass children whose parents don't believe in discipline because it "stifles creativity." They ran around the restaurant while their parents sat and ignored them.
2. The incessant hockey talk. Yes, the Wild are doing well. Let's move on.
3. The complete disrespect for anything outside their conception of a "normal" career. Namely, me. My uncles tag-teamed me with the you-have-no-work-ethic, you're-getting-a-Ph.D.-in-burger-flipping taunts today. As they do every time they see me.
Shit, at least come up with new material, guys. I can practically recite along with you. As the sole academic amongst us, I seem to be the only one who deserves to be teased about her career. The rest of the cousins have decided to do something useful with their lives. Glad to know I'm a valuable part of the family. I offered to help a cousin with his basic stats course, as I taught a lab for stats in undergrad. My uncle promptly handed me the check for dinner and said "here. make yourself useful. split this up."
I know I should stop whining and enjoy the fact that I HAVE family, but they make me feel like shit every time I see them.
So, I've got an idea. On the "don't get mad, get even" front, next family gathering I'll give them what they want: a nice, normal, Allen-style life course. I'll tell them I've met the man of my dreams and am dropping out of grad school to work for the county and have his baby out of wedlock. I'm moving to a trailer park out in the boonies, and trading in my kayak for a fishing dinghy. I'll come to every one of my cousins' hockey games, poorly behaved child in tow. I'll cook huge, meat-filled dinners for my family every night, and eat them with gusto. Afterward, I'll do the washing up while nominally minding the poorly-behaved child so that my man can take it easy and watch hockey on the fucking television. Come hell or high water, the poorly behaved child will grow up to play hockey in college. I know this because I will spend most of my adult life carting him around to practice, because I'll work only part time while he's growing up so that my man can bring home the bacon.
Fuck this shit. I'm just not going to the next gathering. I'm not a good enough actress to pull that one off.
posted by Turtle at 3:52 PM
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