The Life of Me
Part 1 - Family Functions and Dysfunctions
I consider myself a very blessed person. I have a gorgeous, intelligent, wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter. My daughter is from husband #1, not husband #2. Husband #3 is the gorgeous, intelligent, wonderful one. M'kay?
The blessings in my life have been many, and some of them so wonderful I just have to share. The latest, and best, being husband #3. Before I tell you much about my life now, I should probably fill you in on my background a little. Just so you know exactly where I'm coming from.
I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania - Bumfuck, PA to be exact - where inbreeding is practiced and accepted and everyone is on 'nerve pills.' Success is measured in exactly how early in life one is able to buy one's own trailer. Hell, my cousin and her husband have one in the "Green Acres Estates" trailer park. The family is very proud!
Ingenuity is measured by how early you can 'git yer tree stand up fer huntin before anybody else takes yer goddamn spot!' Also, new and improved rigged car parts are a subject of admiration amongst one’s peers. My cousin's husband (yeah, I know... nobody likes a braggart) needed a new paint job for his 19-something or other Ford Ranger, so he used some of his mother’s left over house paint and painted that bad boy! It looks good, too! I have it on good authority that 'a lot of people think a perfess'nal done the painting.' Yeah, buddy! No joke... he actually TOLD people about this.
Do I fit in with my family at all? Nope. I've tried, though. I don't think I'm better than any of them in the least,, but I just don't get them. I've never been able to see things the way they do, or to be satisfied living the lifestyle they live. I just can't watch a NASCAR race, a 'rasslin match, or hang out at a 'family function' and watch all the kids while the adults 'go for a walk' (translation: get stoned).
I've often wondered if I've missed a meeting somewhere. No matter how many times I hear it, it horrifies me and makes me uncomfortable when one of my cousins refers to her very young son as, "Ya little shit." It's obvious that she adores the kid, honestly. But when he hears things from infancy on like, "C'mere ya little shit!" or "Did you just shit in your diaper, ya little shit?!" it makes it hard to swallow when he gets punished for dropping a sand pail and saying something charming like, "Aw, shit!" This entire shitty exchange is looked upon by the family with amused indulgence and gentle, "Aww! Ain't that cute?" smiles. Maybe I'm just being too sensitive about this. I probably need to go on nerve pills, but that shit freaks me out.
Another common trait among the Shenandoah Valley folk is the complete inability to see beyond your own family, town, and what you've been used to your entire life. (i.e. We don't take kindly to that 'round here.) I went to Ireland when I was in my early 20's. By the family's reaction, you would have thought I was planning on going on a murder spree. "We don't understand WHY you want to go overseas!" (No other country outside the US actually has a name... it's "overseas.") My mother actually had my aunt call me at my work and read me the riot act about going overseas because they didn't understand why I would want to 'do such a thing.'
I should mention that my aunt was career military, had been to several of the mythical 'overseas' lands and was living in the foreign country of Mississippi at the time of this phone call. Not wanting to be disrespectful of my aunt, I tried explaining that Ireland was a dream of mine, and since I wasn't married and didn't have any kids, I felt this was the perfect time to go and experience something I may never have the chance to do again. I was pretty darn proud of the diplomatic way I handled that. I was rewarded when she paused and then said, "But we don't understand WHY you are doing this!" I told her she was absolutely right and that I didn't know why I was doing it either. The phone call ended with her sounding very satisfied with herself, bordering on smug. I'm sure she called my mother right away to tell her that she had finally talked some sense into me. I left for Ireland the next week and spent two months backpacking around and getting wasted at every small pub I could find. I had the time of my life! My mother didn't speak to me for months after I got back, but I heard through the grapevine that she'd been bragging to the people she worked with about me going overseas.
My family is living proof that anybody can justify anything for any reason. And believe it.
One example is the first Mother’s Day after I had my daughter. I was taken to lunch by the ex's parents, but before I went, I tried calling my mother… no answer. I had a nice lunch and returned home and called my mother again... no answer. We went to a grocery store that was sort of near my mothers house and I tried calling her from the parking lot before we left… no answer. I left a message on her machine telling her I'd called and that my daughter wondered when she could come bring her 'Grammy' a Mother’s Day present.
Stupid me! I thought that since my daughter was a whole two months old at the time, my mother would think that was cute. WRONG!
I finally got hold of her, on Tuesday, and was met by the chilliest of chilly tones. I called my brother and asked him what was wrong with her now? He said that she had gotten offended that I had said, "The baby wants to bring you something." instead of, "I want to bring you something." She didn't speak to me for over a year that time, and everybody thought I was Queen Biatch for having said something like that. It was also my fault she didn't speak to me for a year because I didn't call her and apologize. I have since lived in fear that I'm surely going to burn in hell for my evil ways.
I'm not bitter. Really. I figure a few years in therapy, some nice nerve pills, and an outlet such as this website, will have me right as rain in no time!
Oh yeah! My life now! I'm married to a US Diplomat and I don't live in Pennsylvania anymore. Two words for you: EU-ROPE! This whole thing started off because I wanted to outline the culture shock I've experienced since coming here in April. A few days ago, some broad was standing behind me in line at the local market and pointed to something on the floor and said something in a fairly rude tone. Now, had that something actually belonged to me, I probably could have figured out what she was saying. I've had entire conversations with people here and don't speak a word of this language. (I'm good at reading people like that) Anyway, I just smiled politely and said, "I'm sorry, I don't understand." She actually sneered at me and said very loudly, "Schprechen zie Deutsch?!" I smiled politely again and said, "Schprechen zie kiss my ass?" I guess you can take a girl out of the country... you know the rest.
by
Eos
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