You watch people interact with you, listen to the things they say to you, and think to yourself, well gosh, this person doesn't know me at all?!?
I feel that way a good 60, maybe 70, percent of the time.
Unfortunately, the people who sometimes have me looking over my shoulder, certain that they must be directing their commentary or questions at someone other than me, are my husband and two children. I'm no Dina Lohan, but I'm pretty sure there's something about that family dynamic that just isn't right.
I decided it was time to get to the bottom of the whole, disappointing mess. I scheduled a family meeting. Except I told each family member to show up at a unique, appointed time. And the meeting consisted of nothing more than me putting the following question to each of them:
"What do you think I spend my time away from you doing?"
I started with my husband, since on paper he should have the greatest alacrity with (a) speaking and (b) thinking. I then worked my way down the family roster. Here are the answers I got:
Husband, What do you think I spend my time away from you doing?
- Skipping through the treasure hunt of discarded button-up shirts, vests, and socks I leave strewn about the house for you to deposit in the laundry bin for me.
- Hiding the vest I want to wear, my "work jeans" or that thing I bought that one time with the thingy on the side that I need to do something outside. You hide that stuff and you roll your eyes when I ask where it is, and then you sneak off and put it wherever it was that I left it and act like I left it there and should remember things like that.
- Thinking of stupid things to say to me.
- Stock-piling questions to ask me.
- Counting down 'til the next episode of Pawn Stars.
- Dreaming up different ways to respond to the summons "Mammiiiiiiii??????"
- Shoving snacks up your sleeves so that you can produce them within seconds of a request.
- Practicing your perplexed face for when I want to play hide-and-seek and hide directly in front of you, in plain sight, talking to you the entire time.
- Practicing your excited face for when I report things to you like (a) seeing a bug; (b) putting on my own socks; or (c) finding the sandwich you made me that I lost.
- Enjoying a game of "which toilet needs to be flushed?"
- Strewing extension cords around the house for me to pursue, yank, and insert into my mouth.
- Dropping bits of dirt, leaves, and other debris on the floor for me to pursue, examine, and insert into my mouth.
- Devising new ways to sit with your knees exposed so that I can pursue them, pat them, and insert them into my mouth.
- Wielding the most glorious device of God's creation, the remote control, so that I can pursue that wand of wonder, rip it from your hands, and insert it into my mouth.
- Buying whatever looks disgusting at the grocery store so that you can pursue me with it and trick me into eating it, which only forces me to spit it from my mouth.