Sunday, December 23, 2012

walking through a winter wonderland

The other night we walked down through the Castro, as I was meeting a friend for drinks and the Sober Husband and children felt like going for a walk.

The walk was particularly enjoyable for me, because I was trying out some new performance socks I'd ordered at a holiday sale.  These particular socks are so advanced that a catalogue I'd received in the mail referred to them as "systems" and had a diagram pointing out the various features.  I had enjoyed ridiculing that diagram, but it was an effective sales technique, getting me to order them, and they are the best socks of my life.  As we walked, I kept reveling in my "systems."  "I am never wearing socks again!  I am only wearing systems from now on," I shared.

A particular child found this annoying and requested that I stop referring to my new footwear as "systems" as it was "dorky" and potentially embarrassing.

"You're not the boss of me," I said maturely.

"I should be the boss of you.  I'd do a better job managing you than you do."

We walked on, me reveling in the joy of my systems.  One particular bar with a balcony was full of festive drinkers, who were shouting at pedestrians trying to egg them into jaywalking.  They shouted and shouted at one particular pedestrian next to us.  "Don't be a little bitch!"  Then one festive gay drunk shamed the others:  "There are little kids down there!"  Much gay drunken guilt followed until I shouted up to them, "Don't worry!  She hears worse at home!", gesturing towards little Lola.  This met with a lot of loud, inebriated approval, and as we walked away, when the lights finally changed, one drunk screamed out, "I wish you were my mother!"

I turned and waved in acknowledgment.  "Are you flipping them off?" asked Iris.

"No, I'm waving!  He said he wishes I was his mother."

"Well, I don't wish that," said Iris fiercely.

"WHAT?" I squawked.  "You don't wish I were your mother?"  I knew she wants to go away to boarding school, but unwishing the very biological bonds that tie us together is another matter.

"No!  I don't wish you were his mother!"

After this misunderstanding was cleared up, mother-child love was restored, and we all parted ways:  the Sober Husband and offspring off to eat cake, and me to have cocktails.

10 comments:

hughman said...

It is shocking to realize how easily i could have been yelling at you from a bar balcony.

marketeer said...

When I was her age, I had a fantasy of wanting to go away to boarding school. I had read a book, can't remember what it was called, that made boarding school sound like just the most glamorous place on earth. This may be just be passing phase.

Jane | @janelebak said...

DH, I'm able to see your deleted posts on my feed reader, and I'm worried about you. **hugs**

Anonymous said...

I'm worried about you, too.

Anonymous said...

Me too.

drsarahcl said...

Me too, please let all your loving readers know that you are OK.

Anonymous said...

Seriously? This is funny to you? Your kids are so disrespectful and bratty. So messed up...

Anonymous said...

^Seriously Anonymous? Did you read correctly? Her kids didn't do anything disrespectful or bratty. The only disrespectful or bratty thing here is your comment.

Sara Robison said...

"I should be the boss of you. I'd do a better job managing you than you do."

While I don't agree completely with either of the past two commenters I see where #1 gets that idea (at least the disrespectful part).

Sara R.

Dread Pirate Davi said...

I do believe the DH has made it clear in the past that, while the children are free to speak their minds at home, they have been taught to be respectful of their elders outside of the home. Take a chill pill.