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I aten't dead.
I keep mentally composing posts, but they don't get any further. Maybe our new international media overlords will come up with a brain-to-LJ posting interface? It would certainly help.
We went to Memphis for Thanksgiving. It was surprisingly okay. My father-in-law continues to mysteriously dominate the cancer that was supposed to kill him - his scans are still cancer-free more than three years after diagnosis. Other health problems are starting to pile up, though - for example, gallstones. He had several nasty attacks over the holiday. Unfortunately, his lungs are so scarred from radiation therapy that they're not sure he can handle surgery to remove the gallstones... and even if he could, that's just one of several serious, surgery-requiring problems on the horizon for him.
Still, he was well enough to enjoy our visit. He and Michael managed to hammer a few very, very basic principles of football into my head, a process which they both seemed to enjoy. And he loved seeing Alex. He bought her a pair of hot pink cowboy boots. He got down on the floor and let her serve him tiny cups of pretend tea. (Or, more frequently, deny him tiny cups of pretend tea.)
In one of those perfect things that you couldn't in a million years coach a kid to do, she developed an absorbing interest in looking at old family pictures and learning the names. She trotted back and forth bringing him pictures and asking questions, and by Saturday she could explain: "Here's Poppy's Papa, here's Sweetie, here's Poppy, and here's Chuck. And here's another picture of Poppy and his Papa." He was so thrilled.
Michael's stepmother didn't cause much trouble. We wrestled a bit over food safety issues (this is someone who thinks it's acceptable to leave a casserole dish of meat and cream sauce uncovered on the counter for several hours before serving it), but she didn't say anything really outrageous or awful.
The highlight of the visit came Sunday evening at dinner, when Alex turned to me and said in a clear, distinct voice, "Mama, do you have big nipples?"
"That's something private," I told her. "We don't talk about that in front of other people."
"Do you have big nipples?" she asked earnestly.
I scooped her out of her highchair and carried her swiftly into the other room to discuss the matter further. Behind me, I could hear Betty saying in shocked tones, "WHERE did she learn that WORD?!"
Obviously we weren't going to be able to top that incident, so the next morning we flew back to Baltimore.
...If it seems as though I'm totally effaced from this post - and, re-reading it, I see that it does - it's because I really fade into the background on our Memphis trips. Those visits aren't about me, and they don't have much to offer me. I mostly focus on trying to make them good for other people. That's okay with me, especially because we don't go there very often, but it means that I don't have much to say for myself when I come back. I'll try to post more personal content soon.
We went to Memphis for Thanksgiving. It was surprisingly okay. My father-in-law continues to mysteriously dominate the cancer that was supposed to kill him - his scans are still cancer-free more than three years after diagnosis. Other health problems are starting to pile up, though - for example, gallstones. He had several nasty attacks over the holiday. Unfortunately, his lungs are so scarred from radiation therapy that they're not sure he can handle surgery to remove the gallstones... and even if he could, that's just one of several serious, surgery-requiring problems on the horizon for him.
Still, he was well enough to enjoy our visit. He and Michael managed to hammer a few very, very basic principles of football into my head, a process which they both seemed to enjoy. And he loved seeing Alex. He bought her a pair of hot pink cowboy boots. He got down on the floor and let her serve him tiny cups of pretend tea. (Or, more frequently, deny him tiny cups of pretend tea.)
In one of those perfect things that you couldn't in a million years coach a kid to do, she developed an absorbing interest in looking at old family pictures and learning the names. She trotted back and forth bringing him pictures and asking questions, and by Saturday she could explain: "Here's Poppy's Papa, here's Sweetie, here's Poppy, and here's Chuck. And here's another picture of Poppy and his Papa." He was so thrilled.
Michael's stepmother didn't cause much trouble. We wrestled a bit over food safety issues (this is someone who thinks it's acceptable to leave a casserole dish of meat and cream sauce uncovered on the counter for several hours before serving it), but she didn't say anything really outrageous or awful.
The highlight of the visit came Sunday evening at dinner, when Alex turned to me and said in a clear, distinct voice, "Mama, do you have big nipples?"
"That's something private," I told her. "We don't talk about that in front of other people."
"Do you have big nipples?" she asked earnestly.
I scooped her out of her highchair and carried her swiftly into the other room to discuss the matter further. Behind me, I could hear Betty saying in shocked tones, "WHERE did she learn that WORD?!"
Obviously we weren't going to be able to top that incident, so the next morning we flew back to Baltimore.
...If it seems as though I'm totally effaced from this post - and, re-reading it, I see that it does - it's because I really fade into the background on our Memphis trips. Those visits aren't about me, and they don't have much to offer me. I mostly focus on trying to make them good for other people. That's okay with me, especially because we don't go there very often, but it means that I don't have much to say for myself when I come back. I'll try to post more personal content soon.
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-J
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I think you dealt with that very well. I think I'd have just said "Yes" and probably shocked the grandparents to bits.
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The next morning, she and I went in to the bathroom while Michael was shaving. She asked him why he was wrapped up in a towel, and he told her that he was covering up his private areas. At which point she informed him, "Papa, your nipples are private too." Which led to a very difficult-to-explain conversation about how nipples are private for women, but not for men.
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Elena is obsessed with nipples. Nearly every time she's naked / getting dressed, we hear the announcement "I have nipples!" Yes, you do.
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Take two bad mother marks and a special snigger award.
(Linnea told me in the back garden one summer's day that I had big nipples. ALL the neighbours heard.)