Voices Carry

First of all, we had no idea it was Easter weekend until my brother-in-law called to wish us a happy one, and I *think* I recovered nicely with a hey, uh, you too! How ARE you guys doing with the … eggs and all?

I think we’re sort of failing at parenting in some ways, and by that I mean the ways of doing things like holidays and birthdays and other “meaningful” events. For now, the excuse is that she’s too little to know — and really, she is — but I’m wondering if I’ll know when she is aware enough to care. Like, am I already short-changing her some magical Easter egg hunting experience? I don’t think so, seeing as she’s still firmly in the two-nap camp and leaving the house before 3 p.m. is a colossal pain in the ass, because lunch falls between the two naps and unless we’re going OUT for lunch, any endeavor longer than 45 minutes or so is a total crapshoot of eye-stabbing misery if you catch her on the wrong day.

We skipped a birthday party altogether — we sort of had two, one with my sister’s family, and another with my parents a few days later — and though we got her some presents, they were relatively few, because this is a kid who will scream with joy while waving an empty Kleenex box over her head, you know? And yes, we had a cake, as you’ve seen, but there were no friends, no other families, no throngs of lumplike one-year-olds Frankensteining around our relatively small house. My belief is that such things are excessive and rather silly, at least from a kid point of view (if it’s for you, the parent, and it’s important to you, by all means), but maybe I’m just mean, and my kid will grow up in a party-deprived rage on a bell tower some day.

This is the shit, though, that I worry about. I like birthdays, and I think they’re important to celebrate, but I don’t want my kid(s) growing up to expect some kind of wild RHoOC party while I fret and hand-wring over whether $12,000 was a reasonable budget, or whether I should have sprung for the beluga-flavored cupcakes and princess-themed paparazzi entrance for nine-year-olds. I mean, my most memorable birthday party was in my parents’ basement and involved homemade pizza and punch, I think. Well, except for my third birthday, which was ceremoniously held at Weiner King (yes, really), where I, and a bunch of other three-year-olds, dressed our own hot dogs with too much mustard and spilled ketchup down our fronts.

If you were wondering, the Weiner King is no longer there, and is now, I believe, a Long John Silver’s.

Longest way ever of saying: Oops, we forgot Easter. This is what happens with two non-Christians with far away families: You end up barfing alone and forgetting Easter even exists.

Finally, without rehashing anything, but because I keep stepping in it lately, I just want to add: I’m generally a pretty up-front person. Oh, I snark and gossip with the best of them at times, I won’t lie, but mostly, what you see is what you get. I don’t even think anyone would be surprised by what I’ve snarked about, because I pretty much say it up front.

For me, that’s important, and it’s the kind of person I not only am, but it’s the kind of person I’m generally attracted to. I think part of being authentic is being consistent and honest, even if that means people don’t like what you have to say. I find it a little gross when people act SHOCKED! that people have the balls to utter the questions/thoughts/whatever that everyone else is thinking, and everyone knows it, but no one says it out loud. I mean, PEOPLE. You’re thinking it! Are you a bad person? No. And neither am I just because I’m honest about it and say it out loud. Hell, I’ll even say it TACTFULLY, I promise. And I don’t need you to say it, too, but I don’t need your condemnation and surprise when I do.

I am not malicious. I am generally very loyal. I like most people. That very likely includes you. I keep confidences very, very well, and I’m not going to turn on you, and it’s not scary to be on the wrong side of me. Someone, in the midst of it all, thinking they were being complimentary, said, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” I cringed, because that’s just not the case, and it’s not going to happen. To really get on my bad side, you have to do something pretty egregiously awful, and I’d probably tell you about it long before you saw it coming.

I am distrustful of people who only have nice things to say, not because I think that’s not a good way to be, but because I think it’s inauthentic for many people, and I like to see it all laid out there. It doesn’t mean I’m not a positive person, or that I don’t see/think positive things. For all of this talk, I am generally very, very happy. Like, terrifyingly happy. This may be surprising for some people, but it’s the God’s honest truth, and I’d tell you if it wasn’t.

And generally speaking, I am, in person, exactly as I appear on this blog, as witnesses can attest. I don’t write or say anything in a public online forum that I wouldn’t say in person, to someone’s face. True story.

Basically, and this is hard for me to admit, but I think I might be Ramona Singer.

Now, can we talk about your implants, because I heard your boobs were, like, all crooked and shit, but you finally got them fixed?

Happy Monday!

*’Til Tuesday

47 comments April 4th, 2010