Tag Archives: family

Coincidence is JOincidence with a C

August 15, 2015cars, dad, driving, Familyfamily, family dynamicsEmily

Number of days I’ve been home in Potomac: 1

Number of fresh dings in Dad’s new car: 1

I don’t see how these two events are even remotely related…

Fat

July 23, 2015Family, Mental Health, Relationshipsbabies, family, mental health, miscommunication, misunderstandings, nephew, outer banks, relationships, sisters, therapist, therapy, vacationEmily

It had been a while since I’d seen my therapist, so I had a lot to catch her up on. I told her about my upcoming family vacation in the Outer Banks, and that I was excited because I had invited Eric to come along. I also told her about my weekend in the North Fork babysitting my nephew, and how funny it was to see him next to slightly older babies who were crawling and walking, as he has yet to do anything but sit and occasionally roll over (one way only). I said it would be interesting to see if he was able to do anything new by the time we go to the Outer Banks mid-August. She smiled politely through all my babbling, and then chimed in….

Therapist: “Well that’ll be really nice to have him at the beach. He should be mobile by then.”
Me: (skeptical) “Eh…I doubt it. He’s pretty fat.”
Therapist: “Oh, um. Oh…I didn’t know…”
Me: “No, you know what I mean. Not in like a bad way. He’s just a total chunkster. I call him my little porkpie.”
Therapist: “Oh…that’s…oh.”
Me: “No, like, endearingly. He’s just a tub-a-lub. I just can’t imagine him walking any time soon. Like how is he supposed to get those lumpy doughboy thighs off the ground?”
Therapist: “Oh…but…is he able to do his physical therapy?”

It was at this point that I realized she was referring to Eric, who recently had ACL surgery. NOT my chubby 8-month-old nephew.

Me: “Oh my god…wait…you think I’m sitting here telling you Eric is a fat chunk who won’t walk any time soon?!”
Therapist: “Oh! You’re talking about the baby!”
Me: “Yes! Eric is not too fat to walk!”
Therapist: “Yeah you never mentioned him being fat…I thought maybe he gained some weight after surgery…”
Me: “I do not call Eric ‘my little porkpie!'”
Therapist (laughing): “Ok, good…”

It was at this point that I realized my therapist, who is responsible for my mental sanity, thinks I’m a terrible, twisted human being.

Eh. I’m ok with that.

Family Communication, Part 2

July 22, 2015Familybrother, dad, family, family dynamics, large families, miscommunication, mom, siblings, travelEmily

The REAL Truth About O.J. Simpson

July 21, 2015Family, Kids/Teaching, Random Thoughts/Happeningscamp, family, family dynamics, kids, oj simpson, parenting, parents, robindel, sleepaway camp, summer, summer camp, winaukeeEmily

My dad used to be acquainted with O.J. Simpson. This was in the pre-Bronco days. They served on a board together, and became acquaintances (yes, I am carefully avoiding the word “friends,” because they weren’t friends. Also because O.J. does this thing where he murders people.)

The only reason this relationship is memorable is because one day, my dad decided to ask this cold-blooded killer for some parenting advice.

Dad: “Should I send my youngest kid to Winaukee, a 2-month sleep away camp, this summer? He’s only 5 years old.”
O.J.: “Absolutely! It’ll be the best summer of his life!”

So Dad sent him. Because O.J. SIMPSON IS FULL OF GREAT IDEAS!

Zack spent that entire summer crying in the infirmary. The camp nurse was his best friend. Occasionally he’d take a break from sobbing to ride a horse, which, at an all-boys camp, made him a huge weirdo. When Steph and I (who were at Robindel, the sister camp across the lake), would show up for visitation on Sundays, we’d find him shirtless, wearing one Teva sandal, and covered in a mix of dirt, weeks-old temporary tattoos, and general despair. Jeremy was at the camp with Zack and was supposed to be looking out for him but, in a shocking turn of events, no one ever knew where the fuck Jeremy was or what he was doing. But he sure as shit wasn’t looking after Zack. Which is ok, since, at 8 years old, he was probably too young to be at camp himself.

Bottom line– it was, without question, the worst summer of Zack’s life.

So the point here is this: I don’t care if you do or don’t believe that O.J. Simpson is a murderer– I have indisputable proof that he is, at the very least, a big fucking liar.

It’s a shame no one asked me to testify in court.