Christmas is Over, Yay!
Before parenthood, I used to be sad when the holidays were over and the long grey slog of January commenced. Now, not so much. For one thing, the holidays have a way of intensifying everyone's personality quirks.
For instance: the introvert/extrovert polarity became even more obvious. At my mom's house (she the Dowager Empress of the Extroverts, paired with my daughter the Infanta Extrovert) I periodically fled to the bathroom in the far corner of the house for a little Alone Time, only to find someone tapping on the door saying, hello? Is that you? Not because of some emergency, mind you, just because I'd gone missing for 20 minutes. And the door-tapper was my mom, not my daughter. You expect that from a 3-year-old, not so much from one's own mother.
Also, I got to have a refresher course in Old School Feminine Duty, as my mom chased me around the house during the frenzy to pack up our stuff and hit the road, peppering me with questions: Do you think He will want a sandwich? (Mom, he can make his own damn sandwich.) Does He want to take home the leftover mashed potatoes? (Dunno, but I sure do.)
See, the women in my maternal family are rigorously trained in the credo that women are expected to be in control of absolutely everything, anticipating everyone's needs (or, better yet, manipulating everyone's needs) while simultaneously preserving the Male Illusion that He Himself is in Charge. For example, if He has high cholesterol but also wants (or might want) a sandwich, She must hightail it into the kitchen and make him a sandwich using Fat-Free mayonnaise, Reduced-Fat cheese and Lo-Fat turkey, which he will gratefully eat and never notice the healthy abstemiousness of the whole thing.
Except that my own personal He can spot low-fat anything a mile off and is perfectly happy to make his own damn sandwich, especially if it'll spare him the low-fat crap.
So, after a week at the DEE's house, I arrived home in a state of twitchy exhaustion, only to have a day's time to prepare for the Infanta's 3rd birthday party. Luckily, a neighbor kidnapped me briefly for a trip to the farmer's market, so I had a few minutes to rant a bit, to the tune of, WHY CAN'T PEOPLE LOOK FOR STUFF INSTEAD OF INTERRUPTING ME, ASKING WHERE IT IS AND INSISTING THAT I GO FIND IT??? Sure, I had to hear the observation that maybe I could just tell the interrupter to knock it off, but still.
Plus, I bought some nice cheese. Not low fat.
For instance: the introvert/extrovert polarity became even more obvious. At my mom's house (she the Dowager Empress of the Extroverts, paired with my daughter the Infanta Extrovert) I periodically fled to the bathroom in the far corner of the house for a little Alone Time, only to find someone tapping on the door saying, hello? Is that you? Not because of some emergency, mind you, just because I'd gone missing for 20 minutes. And the door-tapper was my mom, not my daughter. You expect that from a 3-year-old, not so much from one's own mother.
Also, I got to have a refresher course in Old School Feminine Duty, as my mom chased me around the house during the frenzy to pack up our stuff and hit the road, peppering me with questions: Do you think He will want a sandwich? (Mom, he can make his own damn sandwich.) Does He want to take home the leftover mashed potatoes? (Dunno, but I sure do.)
See, the women in my maternal family are rigorously trained in the credo that women are expected to be in control of absolutely everything, anticipating everyone's needs (or, better yet, manipulating everyone's needs) while simultaneously preserving the Male Illusion that He Himself is in Charge. For example, if He has high cholesterol but also wants (or might want) a sandwich, She must hightail it into the kitchen and make him a sandwich using Fat-Free mayonnaise, Reduced-Fat cheese and Lo-Fat turkey, which he will gratefully eat and never notice the healthy abstemiousness of the whole thing.
Except that my own personal He can spot low-fat anything a mile off and is perfectly happy to make his own damn sandwich, especially if it'll spare him the low-fat crap.
So, after a week at the DEE's house, I arrived home in a state of twitchy exhaustion, only to have a day's time to prepare for the Infanta's 3rd birthday party. Luckily, a neighbor kidnapped me briefly for a trip to the farmer's market, so I had a few minutes to rant a bit, to the tune of, WHY CAN'T PEOPLE LOOK FOR STUFF INSTEAD OF INTERRUPTING ME, ASKING WHERE IT IS AND INSISTING THAT I GO FIND IT??? Sure, I had to hear the observation that maybe I could just tell the interrupter to knock it off, but still.
Plus, I bought some nice cheese. Not low fat.
posted by jwoods at 7:39 AM
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