Where parenting and politics meet, but don't always play nice.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
I Get the Best Emails - Ongoing
To: Kate From: Doc Subject: A Christmas Prayer
Dear Lord,
Thank you for another year... I know I probably didn't do as much as you wanted me to, but thanks for forgiving me for that, too.
Thank you for looking out for me again this year... and thank you for the people I met, good and bad. Take care of those people I've lost, look after those I've lost touch with and those who've lost touch with me. Thank you for watching over us all... Christians, Moslems, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists and agnostics, pagans and everyone else. You know many of us probably don't deserve it... but I guess that's grace for you.
Thank you for not forgetting me, when I forgot you. Thank you for not taking me too seriously, and giving me miles to go and mountains to climb. Thanks for not taking me in vain, though I used your name that way a few times... well... a lot of times.
Thanks for minimizing the bullies in the world and providing them with the Darwin Award to aspire to.
Thanks for the abundance you've given me... but also thanks for the things you've taken away. It's been through the things I've lost that I have learned to appreciate the blessing, gifts and talents you've given me more.
Thanks for the angry people in my life, because looking at them taught me how I don't want to appear to others. Thank you for the ignorant people in my life for showing me why I have to keep learning so as not to embarrass myself in front of others. Thank you for my ex-wife, who proved to me how selfish, self-centered and foolish one person can be when they believe they can do no wrong... and how many people they can hurt without caring.
Thanks for my disabilities... but thank you even more for my abilities, my sense of humor and fairness. Thank you for making me scrupulous and having an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong.
Thanks for my parents... for the time I had with them... and showing me what I missed when they weren't in my life.
Thanks for my doctors... though I don't always trust them, but they have had some success in making me a healthier if somewhat different person than I was before... I think it's the drugs. But, most of all thank you for You... and I pray in the coming year that those who don't really know you, those who view your word as inflexible, not dynamic, and locked in time may have the broomsticks removed from their asses and finally see the beauty in their neighbors... not because the Constitution tells them they have to... but because You do.
Some people complain about family. They write somber novels, produce trite movies, and drink themselves silly in some vain attempt to forget their roots and erase from memory about a trillion bad experiences.
Poor bastards.
Clearly they’ve never partied with the Durkin clan of northeastern Pennsylvania, where the good always outweighs the bad. There are different last names – Finans and O’Malleys, to name a few – but I’m including all of them under the Durkin umbrella. ‘Cause I’m a big-tent kind of girl.
My family is large, strange, crazy, complex, loving, and utterly spectacular. A cousin got married a few months ago and so his parents, my aunt and uncle, threw a party for them this past weekend. Thanks to lower gas prices and a relocation to Florida, the Robinsons were able to attend. We spent some time with my brother and his lovely wife in Philadelphia and then proceeded to Scranton for the reception.
Whenever you get a largely Irish Catholic bunch and mix in Jews, Muslims, agnostics, three Protestants, at least two Italians, some Poles, and alcohol – somebody’s gonna say something weird, funny, or both.
Here is a sample of what I heard over the past few days.
“I have the same reaction when reading her profile on Facebook that I have when eating a grapefruit.”
“Uncle Joe is in his element.”
“Your two children just offered to buy everyone in the bar a shot of whiskey with the money I gave them for Chanukah.”
“How’s DC? Wall-to-wall douchebags.”
“You’re a lot prettier and nicer than you used to be.”
“Mommy, some woman at the bar gave me her email address and said to contact her in about ten years.”
“Your husband is in his element.”
“I hate getting poked or pushed on Facebook. And why is someone always trying to get me to read Out in Left Field?”
“I liked your newsletter this year. My granddaughter isn’t learning enough curse words at school, now I have to keep her away from the Christmas cards.”
"Growing up, I spent a lot of time with the Jews. I'm probably the only Roman Catholic Jew you'll ever meet."
"Your kids make me feel like a super star."
"You don't have to hold in your tummy at all. I just heard three people say they're willing to give the vegan thing a try."
"No one told me sparkled tops weren’t in style anymore.”
“Do you see what I’m dealing with?”
"I'm not used to mingling with family while sober. Maybe I should hang out with your husband. He's been doing this for twenty years."
“Two doctors once told me that I wouldn’t live to see my fortieth birthday. That was twenty years ago. Meanwhile I’m fine. And those doctors? May they rest in peace.”
“I am not in my element.”
“The couple’s first dance is Afternoon Delight? He's got to be related to you.”
“Look at you, Catherine, in that little tiny dress, dancing up a storm. Confidence is no longer an issue, huh?”
"I know all the stories and haven't blogged a thing. Don't look so surprised."
That last comment was me.
I told you. The good always outweighs the bad. Another cousin is getting married next October.
Is anyone really sorry to see 2008 bite the dust? Filled with great joys and sorrows, this year blasted our conscience and bowels. What’s up with ABC canceling Boston Legal? Let’s review the last twelve months that took us from Colorado to Florida, and how it affected your favorite family of freak shows.
December – Oldest and Youngest star in a Christmas play at their school in Colorado Springs. Nana and Grandpa brave airline prices and frozen snot to attend. Husband observes that the play is not *exactly* Broadway because the actors pick their noses, the "theatre" looks like "the gym" and the children in attendance a) scream, b) sing louder than the performers, and c) pass gas that would choke a cow. Catherine gets drunk for the first time in ten years at Becky and David’s Holiday Party. Husband likes her better that way. Catherine endures uncomfortable silences with evangelicals at work when she wears shirt that says, “Oy to the World.”
January – Catherine and Husband celebrate New Year with Aaron and Melissa by playing Scruples. No other board game helps you learn about your friends, how long it took for them to have sex, and their thoughts regarding stale bread in a restaurant. It helps to drink two bottles of wine and some champagne. Best New Year since Becky and Catherine rang in ’84 with wine coolers and Don Henley songs. Oldest and Youngest turn 8 and the Patriots lose the Superbowl. Youngest decides he hates New York more than Colorado classmates. Catherine starts her own business - Durkin Writers Group – trying to craft articles and speeches without sarcasm or curse words.
February – The boys take hockey lessons so they’ll fit in with toothless neighbors. Catherine caucuses for Obama and becomes a vegan – uncomfortable silences at work get longer. She drags Husband and the boys through South Dakota and Wyoming to see Crazy Horse, Mount Rushmore, and Devil’s Tower. Driving in a snowstorm isn’t as much fun as it sounds. They pass one other vehicle during the thousand mile trip. "Did you see the driver smile at us?" I asked. "Yeah," Husband said. "He's thinking, 'Jews in a can. Yummy.’”
March – Snow days bring fun conversations with kids about the Holocaust and sex.
Me: What did you learn about in Hebrew School yesterday? Oldest: A lot. We learned about concentration camps. Me: Oh? What about them? Oldest: They put Jewish people in camps. We also learned about Anne Frank. Me: What about her? Oldest: She had very special diarrhea. (long pause) Me: I did not know that. Oldest: She wrote about her life in a concentration camp. Me: Oh. She wrote about that in a *diary* sweetie. Not diarrhea.
Youngest: What does s-e-x mean? Me (reaching for wine): I'm sorry, sweetie, what are you asking? Youngest: Colin at school was talking about s-e-x. What does it mean? Me: Sex is how mommies and daddies make babies. (Eight year-olds get the less is more, conservative version. Condoms and foreplay are another talk for another time.) Youngest: How do mommies and daddies make babies? (Oldest walks over to our part of the living room. Reading his mind is easy: Forget Sports Illustrated, what's Mom and Youngest talking about? After introducing terms like fallopian tubes and parenting after graduate school, I pray the conversation is over.) Me: Sex is okay to talk about here at home with mommy and daddy, but let's not go around discussing this with others. Let the other kids' parents decide when to tell them, okay? Youngest: Yeah, cause Colin still believes in Santa. Let him wait until graduate school to find out what his penis does. (I've seen Colin. He'll be in his forties before he finds out what his penis does. But that's another talk for another time.)
April – Catherine learns how to write without offending anyone and Durkin Writers Group finally gets paying clients. Husband loses bet with Nana. It snows in Colorado and Catherine takes the boys to Tampa for Spring Break. Upon their return, drama ensues. Oldest and Youngest’s principal blames said drama on Oldest’s swagger and Youngest’s confidence. Tells them to dial it down. Catherine starts memoir about teaching in Tampa because therapy is too expensive. Husband coaches flag football team and wonders if the temperature will ever go above 40.
May – Catherine’s up for her first review in Colorado school system. Confident it'll be positive and professional, she doesn’t worry. They say she’s knowledgeable and passionate. Strong work ethic. So far so good. Then they complain she’s not empathetic or compassionate or Christian enough. Plus she wears colorful sweaters. Then a snowstorm hits. The Robinsons decide the Robinsons belong in Florida – Catherine wishing she’d never told the state to “Kiss off.”
June – Family travels to Yellowstone and The Grand Tetons because the Robinsons love nature and wild animals from the safety of an automobile that does 0 to 60 in three seconds.
Husband turns 40 and wonders why he can’t see past his elbow. Nana flies out to Colorado and drives back home with Catherine and kids in tow. Hits Memphis for family fun where they learn about alcoholic musicians, Dr. King’s assassination and lynching. ‘Cause theme parks are for pussies. Get back to Tampa and Grandpa wonders when empty nest syndrome will become a reality instead of a dream.
July – Catherine starts a new job training teachers and Husband returns to regular commuting between Colorado and Florida. He pretends to miss the arguments over tofu. They put the house up for sale in Colorado just as housing market reaches all-time low - continuing their streak of lucrative financial planning.
August – Boys start 3rd grade at a private Jewish school where they won’t get into trouble for answering questions correctly. At home in Lutz, a good old-fashioned ass whipping was bound to happen. Next door neighbors step to the boys and Oldest tries to run inside. Husband pokes his head out the side door and says, "Defend yourself, son." Another moment later, Youngest sneaks away as well. "Don't leave your brother's side," Husband tells him at the front door. "They're trying to get out of it," I say. "Nonviolent resistance." "Not on my watch," Husband and Grandpa mumble. My boys ball up their fists and start swinging. The fistfight ends in a matter of seconds. The neighbor’s kids run home crying and vowing revenge. The boys are shook up and teary-eyed, but triumphant nonetheless. The next day, all four boys are the pool while Husband fires up the grill and Grandpa tends to the lawn. Catherine grabs a beer. When in Lutz, after all...
September – Catherine wears shorts and t-shirts and takes her boys to Little League. When officials ask for parents to play a quarter or inning or whatever the hell it's called, Catherine actually grabs a bat, hits the ball, and runs the bases. Correctly. She calls women "gals", drinks cherry wine and doesn’t complain about the heat or bugs or Grandpa anymore. She. Talks. To. People. Aunt Mimi comes to town and hardly recognizes her. Buys her a pair of True Religion jeans and encourages her to “sip” her cocktails.
October – Husband and Catherine celebrate 13 years of marriage, 20 years of couplehood and fall asleep watching Boston Legal. Catherine finishes her memoir and retains legal counsel and a bodyguard. Just in case. Nana continues cooking for everyone, Catherine is so happy she vows never to leave. Grandpa takes up hard drugs and blames it on his sinuses.
November –Catherine reconnects with Julie, one of her closest lifelong friends, as well as future stalkers on Facebook. The boys get high honor roll and Husband is home often enough to steal Grandpa’s coffee and remaining good moods. Obama gets elected. Catherine turns 39 – ready to rock and roll for her last year as a thirty-something.
The family and I took a little road trip. To Scranton. Pennsylvania. In the wintertime.
My cousin got married a few months back and so we're going to celebrate his nuptials with big to-do tonight at the Parish Center. In Scranton. Pennsylvania.
On the way, while reading, listening to music, yelling at my children to pipe down, and checking email - I made it a point to update my status periodically on Facebook.
'Cause I'm a multi-tasking queen. Here is a conversation I had with a couple of my closest online buddies. (I took out all references to porn. 'Cause I'm a lady, as well.)
Catherine is packing and getting ready for the big road trip in the morning.
Julie: PLEASE drive safe and don't talk to strangers - don't even look at them!!!
Brother: Took a look down a northbound road. Right away I made my choice. Headed out to my big four-wheeler. I was tired of my own voice. Took a beat on the northern plains. And just rolled that power on...
Husband: Is that Springsteen?
Julie: I don't get it.
Brother: Roll Me Away. Good road trip song. Don't get me wrong, Julie. Bob Seger is no Whitesnake...or any other shit you rolled to in the 80's.
Julie: I am so feeling right at home!!! Thank you!!! Whitesnake is Cathy. I can't even name a song they sang. BUT, I do love that you remember the good old days!!!
Catherine is thinking that maybe soy nog and brandy isn't the best drink when trying to pack for an early mornin' shove off.
Dalia: Too bad you can't swing thru Jersey on the way home.
Catherine is roadtrippin' it to Raleigh. Call me if something comes up!
Brother: Your friend Julie sent me a Facebook Friend Request. Funny, after all these years, chick still wants me.
Becky: Safe trip you guys! Have fun!
Catherine is eating apples at Burger King where pics of local hero Ray Miley killing bears hang. Love it.
Sister: Yeah, but isn't it cool that BK has apple slices?
Catherine is amazed. If you roll down the window in South Carolina, you can actually smell racism. And SuperDave's feet.
Chase: And yet, isn't Florida where the largest Confederate Flag flies, right in your city, if I'm not mistaken ... get over it, Florida's no better. Ever been to east Pasco?
John: She lived in Wesley Chapel and lives currently in Lutz Chase, I figure she knows to one degree or another that Florida isn't far from "Deliverance."
Ron: Paddle faster, I hear banjo music!!
Chase: I'm aware of that John, my point is that pointing a finger at South Carolina is a bit ironic, considering Florida's own issues. Racism is everywhere, I would say there are parts of South Carolina where it's rampant, and parts where it's not, just like any state.
Sara: Tell the Old Ball Coach the Hawkeyes are going to hand it to them on the 1st! And then run like hell...safely of course.
Catherine is leaving Raleigh with a chill in the air and the car until Husband gets some coffee.
Catherine is listening to Snoop and reading Stephen Colbert's book somewhere in Virginia. Hope we don't get shot.
Catherine is in Philadelphia. Smells delightful.
Catherine about to walk the streets of Philadelphia and spread some brotherly love.
Adam: Remember that the guy sitting on the steam vent isn't Santa, so don't let the kids sit on his lap.
Catherine is eating at The Plough. Free booze. May never leave.
Husband: FREE? Who said I'm payin'?
Becky: C'mon, you know we make you guys pay for it one way or another...
Catherine is going to see The Liberty Bell and Independence Hall this morning. Hope we don't get jumped by those burly Homeland Security guards.
Adam: ahhh...nothing like an afternoon filled with tourist-centered revisionist history.
Catherine: It wasn't bad. I still got teary-eyed and proud and sh*t. But Betsy Ross's house? That sh*t was totally made up.
Catherine is heading to Scranton. You heard me.
June: Cool! My grandmother lives there!
Catherine is surrounded by drunks, graves, and the rolling hills of Pennsylvania.
Steve: That sounds like me last night.
Catherine: Except that I'm related to most of the people in the graves here. And most of the drunks, too.
In our house, we break it down with a different theme each evening. Try these ideas and add them to your own celebration:
1st Night - Fun: Has to be something enjoyable. No other redeeming value necessary.
2nd Night - Homemade: The gift must be our own creation. Poem. Rant. Rave. Or stick figures glued together and colored with Crayola's finest. More than likely these are future decorations to be stored away and taken out each December until the kids graduate college. Gifts that keep on giving.
3rd Night - Books: They are a treasure and more valuable than jewelry. You heard me. Old, new, paperback, hard cover - doesn't matter. Whenever someone asks about movies for my children, I politely ask them to get books instead. A book is always better than the movie anyway.
5th Night - Practical: Underwear. Socks. Sweaters. Important stuff.
6th Night - Charity: We bust open the piggy banks and donate some money to a worthy cause. We talk about why Joshua House, Mother Jones or the American Civil Liberties Union deserves our cash.
7th Night - Educational: Must *encourage* the use of brain cells. Not their destruction.
8th Night - Freebie: Whatever you want. As long as it isn't dangerous or fattening.
Come up with some themes yourselves and don't forget to pass the latkes. Happy Chanukah!
