Yes
Bear with me for a moment.
Bailey, The Golden Recliner needs to be taken to the groomer. Bad. I mean…bad. It’s not like I can’t leash him into the walk-in shower and lather up the big fat hairy 9,000 volt battery that he is. It’s that I don’t want to come out covered in blood. Which I would. Because his toenails (paw nails?) look and sound like a charging elephant just came through the back door and rollerskate-skidded across the wood floors wearing acrylic stilletos.
Which is my way of telling you all that, last night, life around here sort of looked like a charging elephant just came through the back door and rollerskate-skidded across the wood floors wearing acrylic stilletos.
Meaning it was not peaceful.
Meaning Cute Redhead and I had a “frank exchange of ideas.”
Which looks like this…
Which is my cartoon version of what it’s like to have a “frank exchange of ideas” with Cute Redhead. Which isn’t entirely fair because if she had the mic today (and. she. doesn’t.) she’d tell you that I was the horse’s ass (and. I. was.)
For part of it anyway. The part coming, that is.
We’d stolen away to my studio to discuss how to further make our teenage son’s life a petri dish of angst and rebellion. And, wouldn’t you know it, we disagreed on exactly HOW to torture him. And shocking as it will seem, our discussion devolved into strong will vs. strong emotion vs. OhYouDidNOTJustSayThat vs. Okay Mr. Lawyer Wanna Be I’ll CHANGE My Word Are You Happy Now vs. Hey Why Are We Killing Each Other?? Let’s Kill Him!!
And so we did.
But not before that charging elephant came through the house with Beta Male and Charlie Girl on its back beating the living hell out each other.
At least that’s what it sounded like, and which gave us momentary pause enough to charge out of the studio like two elephants and Lay! Down! The! Law!
Which was a train wreck of accusations and false witness bearing and baring of fangs and He’s Lying! and one glaring look of I May Be Obeying You (barely) On The Outside But My Inside Is (not publishable).
Which One Dad To Rule Them All (me) does not warm to. Tendering a charming volley of opinion between myself and the one woman in the house who can get as IN.YOUR.FACE. as me.
Which is not the orange train pictured right up there, just so you know.
It’s Miss Girl.
And boy did we let each other have it. And boy was that stupid.
Tears, fists all clenched up, seething through teeth, red-faced, little jaw all Trying To Stand Its Ground and (I’m sorry to say) not a little trembling.
And she wasn’t doing too well either.
I really hate losing it like that. And, yes, my intensity certainly was displaced, because Cute Redhead and I were still a good hour from that transition from I So Know Where To Hide Your Body to Well That’s Actually A Great Point OkayILoveYouAgainOkayBye.
On our way to that bright new dawn, as I sat at my desk and Cute Redhead sat on the floor (not at ALL to be mistaken for a position of submission) (lolololololololololololololol ‘submission’ lololololololololololo ‘ow ow it hurts’ lolololololololol), a note came winging under the door.
Cute Redhead picked it up. (I knew it was coming because I know this baby girl). She read it silently then made her signature Aw Precious face which meant I was about to get my big stupid head kicked in.
Which I did.
With this…
Which broke my heart, but which also warmed it. Because I can be a horse’s ass. And I’ve been that ass enough times to have enough experience with what being a horse’s ass garners you, as a parent. If you’re lucky. That is, asking for forgiveness when you screw up.
I’ve been wildly lucky around here.
Which afforded me space and heart enough to reply to Charlie Girl.
With this…
Okay, the dorky Do You Want To Be Friends part was just too irresistible to pass up and don’t even pretend you aren’t tempted to write stuff just like it on notes just like that.
And the PS part? Well she did write back.
See that YES checked off?
Well you’re not going to for long. Because I’m tucking this one away. Hiding it inside my heart, hoping to God I eventually get it right. Also hiding it in my collection of The Things I Can’t Get Rid Of. Ever. Like the one last shredded bit of baby blanket Recalcitrant Teenager would, right now in front of God and everybody, deny ever crying over were he without it (he did)…a pair of teeny tiny little girl socks that don’t even fit on my thumb but still manage to wrap my heart around one tiny little finger…a Christmas ornament falling apart…
…you know the collection. If you’re a parent, you have your own.
Or at least I hope you do.
But whether you do or not, I hope that at the end of the day you have…I hope we all have…contact enough with our children (read: NOT being seduced by the damaging lie that we’re here to be their best friends) (thank you Becky Montgomery Graves), such that they write a big fat check mark in the big fat box where you wonder if they still love you.
You know…for being a horse’s ass.
(which. I. was.)
.
.
You’re a loving parents. Yes you do. And you break too many hearts with this charm of you. Though you were being a a horse’s ass (wich we were the time to time.)
Thanks for sharing such a special experience Todd. I love the check Yes or No.
I’m glad I’m not the only person who has a special collection of items you just can’t get rid of. One of my favorites is the letter Mikayla left on the porch addressed to the fairies. Knowing a good breeze would deliver it to their far away land.
Frappé, thank you for the kind words, friend :)
Michelle,
“…knowing a good breeze would deliver it to their far away land.”
Adequate words fail. Thank you.
Sweet story. Been there.
My “No” box was checked, deservedly so.