We had guests this last week. It was the first time my dad (Sparky) ever came to Michigan and he brought my stepmom (AngelHeart), with him. Now, AngelHeart is quite possibly one of the ten most kind people I know. At first I could not believe that she was for real and in the last year to year and a half I have come to realize that she is truly that kind.
So they came and we visited.
We had a blast.
We BBQ’ed, we went to Henry Ford Museum (Greenfield Village), we got pizza (which dad said was the best pizza he’s had in his entire 80 years of existence), we raided an estate sale, we took walks down the bike path nearby, we caught fireflies (you should have seen my 80 year old stepmom outside running after fireflies), we took them out for their first coney island grub, we talked, we laughed, and then we parted ways. I dropped them off at the airport around 1pm today, which was kind of hard because we know that they’ll never be able to come this way again and they do, too. There’s even a possibility that I might never see him again but then again we may be able to – we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The kids absolutely adored AngelHeart and Sparky. They were showing them things, chattering at them, saying all kinds of silly things, and whenever I told them to stop playing video games, watch tv, or get off the computer because they really ought to go hang out with their grandma and granddad they simply said “OK” and did it. No hassle or complaints at all.
My dad assured me that my liberal stepmom was slowly but surely becoming conservative after a year of living with him – and I rejoiced. Sparky did worry me a bit last night when he said he didn’t like Sean Hannity so very much and they asked to surf down to the CNN channel where we got to see Beyonce. I said “Oh yeah, right – like you want to watch this.”
Then AngelHeart says “we’ve seen her on ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and like we like her”. And they were content to leave the channel there. Yes, she said “we like her”. No, I’m not sure if it was DwtS, but it was either that or something of similar ilk.
Honestly I would not know Beyonce if she walked up and gnawed on my butt – I couldn’t even pronounce her name correctly – but the show and format immediately told me that it just isn’t the type of entertainment that I have the patience for (I prefer less ‘I’m a superstar lookit me’ kind of fare).
As I got up in confusion after plummeting to the ground after this world-rocking news my stepmom said “Your brother loves American Idol… he really loves J-Lo”.
In deepest distress I said to Cruel Wife “Yeahbut J-Lo has this HUGE a…. … … nevermind.” I was shocked. My brother, SuperTrooper, likes American Idol. My vision contracted to a point and there was a dull roaring sound in my ears. I couldn’t feel my extremities and I began to gag on my tongue. My father likes Beyonce and my brother likes American Idol.
What next? Mary Poppins becomes a porn star? Dr. Lector goes vegan? Cotton candy is made with Splenda™? Cats become humble?
They saw I was becoming quite agitated and switched the TV back to Hannity.
I will write more later on this post but for now, I’ll end it by saying:
The last four days have been the best present I’ve gotten since Cruel Wife and I were married – when I got a blow-up sheep, the “I Luv Ewe”, at my bachelor party.
I just added the “Luv Ewe” thing to get your attention. And no, “best present” does not include my kids because they weren’t given to us by a person. Yes, having my dad come and visit trumped material goods by far.
Yes, I did get an “I Luv Ewe” from my buddies at my bachelor party – the sickos. It had lipstick, even. It was revolting.
Subtitled “Wherein I Prove that I Need to Get Laid and Chill the F*** Out”. (Hopefully Samuel L. Jackson can do a reading of another book addressing her issues.
Author Adam Mansbach is undoubtedly the kind of father who heaps love, affection and attention upon his daughter. [I don't think she believes that for a second. - LK] (He reportedly had the idea to write the book because of his exasperation with her at bedtime.) But sadly, his book accurately portrays the hostile environment in which too many children grow up.
For far too many kids, the obscenities found in Mansbach’s book are a common, everyday household language. Swearing is how parents across the social, educational and economic strata express their disappointments or anxieties, their frustrations and outright anger at their children. Sometimes the biggest bully in the neighborhood lives in the same house you do. Sometimes it’s your parent.
I’m having a hard time seeing how “Go the **** to Sleep” even remotely comes near the ills of child abuse.