Mary, Mary, Contrary AF

, , , , , | Related | May 22, 2020

A few years ago, my mother, younger brother, and I lived with my great-grandmother while we were between houses. We would sit with her in the living room and read or watch television so that she wasn’t lonely. Her son who had lived with her had died, and she needed someone to “take care of.” We would cook her meals and clean the house.

Her daughter, Mary, lived next door. This woman was the passive-aggressive mother from sitcoms. She would come over and make snippy comments about lint on the floor or crumbs on the tablecloths.

One day, she started cursing me out because the blanket on the back of the couch was crooked. She would vacuum and sweep every time she came over and loudly boast about all the polishing, waxing, laundry, and mopping she had done at her house that day.

My brother and I are half-siblings — same mother, different fathers — so she would tell stories about meeting someone at church like, “She’s one of those kinds of women, you know? Where her kids have different last names than her.”

Once, her three-year-old grandson called me the N-word, only to be shushed by his father, and she would complain about “Messicans” that lived up the road. I put up with it because I loved my Granny and knew that she wasn’t going to be around much longer, as she was in her mid-nineties at the time.

My grandfather, one of Granny’s sons and Mary’s brother, handled her money. He left on a trip and went grocery shopping before he left. Four or five days after he left, Mary came over at nine in the morning and started b****ing and banging things around. “This table looks like there’s been a kindergarten class here!” Then, she opened the fridge. “You don’t have no milk at all? [My Grandfather] had a hunnerd dollars of grocery money but he didn’t get you no d*** groceries!”

Remember: my grandfather had gone shopping almost a week before this, and, with four people in the house, the jug was understandably near-empty.

Fed up, I stormed into the kitchen. “It’s. Just. Milk. You don’t have to scream at the top of your lungs! I’m done putting up with you!” I left the room with her telling me, “Your a** can go to h***!”

My mother called my grandfather and basically told him that his sister had lost her d*** mind and that he needed to come home. While we were packing, she found Mary in the kitchen and told her that we were taking care of her mother, when she lived thirty steps away, and that she had no right to insult me the way she had for the past year.

Mary started banging a broom handle on the kitchen table, beginning to brag about times she had bought Granny apple juice or chicken dinners, “at my expense! at my expense!” in an effort to change the subject.

Mary, if you or anyone in your family ever reads this, f*** you. F*** your racist, homophobic, xenophobic, bigoted child and grandchildren. I am so much more than any of you will ever be.

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Still A Dangerous Question

, , , , | Healthy | May 22, 2020

I’m at the doctor’s. One of the nurses is obviously very pregnant.

Me: “So, when are you due?”

Nurse: *Stares daggers at me* “I’m not pregnant.”

Me: “Nice try, but I heard you talking to the other nurse about being pregnant.”

Nurse: *Smiling* “Dang.”

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Parenting May Make You Cry

, , , , , | Related | May 18, 2020

My niece takes a class in high school where you’re given a robotic baby that cries and records when you feed it, change it, turn it off, or whatever. For the most part, the baby is really easy. On the last night, however…

It’s around two in the morning. My mom and I are both night owls, so we go to the kitchen for a snack. My niece is still awake, and it’s a school night… and the robot baby has been crying for hours.

Niece: “This isn’t like a real baby! Real babies go to sleep!”

My mom and I start laughing.

Me: “You’ve never heard of colic?!”

Mom: “Your father didn’t stop crying or sleep through the night for two years! And I had to take your brother twice a week so your mom could get some sleep since he was making her sick with exhaustion!”

Four years later, my niece got married and had a baby. The baby is a year old and still hasn’t slept through the night. I guess real babies don’t stop crying, either!

He doesn’t cry all day and is super adorable. He just doesn’t sleep through the night.

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Why Don’t YOU Go To The Poconos? Or Somewhere Farther Away?

, , , , , | Related | May 8, 2020

My fiance and I are discussing our upcoming wedding at a family event for my side of the family. One of my elderly relatives is VERY opinionated and thinks that her way is the only way. My husband has just told her that we have booked an all-inclusive resort in Jamaica for our honeymoon. My boss goes to this specific resort every year and he recommended it highly, so we booked it. 

Elderly Relative: “Why don’t you go to the Poconos? One of my neighbors went to the Poconos on their honeymoon and they loved it! You don’t have to fly there.”

It is worth noting that my family lives in central Delaware, a roughly three-hour drive from the Poconos. My husband is stationed at the nearby Air Force base. I am a truck driver for a food service company and the honeymoon resorts in the Poconos are on my route, so I drive there several times a week.

Me: “Why would we want to go to the Poconos? The weather is going to be the same as it is in Dover and I drive there several times a week for work. We are getting married in October and we want a real getaway.”

Elderly Relative: “But the resorts in the Poconos have the most delicious food! My friend says that they got to see a lingerie show there and they got to feed deer!”

Me: “First of all, the quality of the food that I deliver to the honeymoon resort restaurants is very low, the kitchens smell bad, and the places are extremely dated; they get very poor reviews online. In fact, one reviewer referred to one of the resorts as ‘welfare Sandals.’ Second of all, a lingerie show is not our idea of fun. We want to get on an airplane and escape our day-to-day lives.”

Elderly Relative: “What does Jamaica have that the Poconos doesn’t have?”

Me: “Umm, beaches, gourmet food, amazing spas, and world-class service?”

Elderly Relative: “But the Poconos are cheaper and they are closer!”

I look up the Poconos resorts on my travel app.

Me: “No, the Poconos are not cheaper! According to [Travel Site], they are actually more expensive than the deal we got on the trip to Jamaica. We are flying out of Baltimore Washington International and it is only a two-hour drive from here so I am actually driving less. The flight is only three hours.”

Elderly Relative: “You are going to have a really bad time in Jamaica and wish that you went to the Poconos!”

We had an AMAZING time in Jamaica! We spent every morning eating the best breakfast buffet that we have ever had, on a terrace overlooking the Caribbean. We got a massage at the resort spa, which was very nice. The restaurants were second to none and the grounds were absolutely gorgeous. Our room overlooked the Caribbean and was amazing. It actually rained VERY heavily in the Poconos during the week of our honeymoon. So much for the bad time that we were expected to have in Jamaica!

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On April First, Trust No One

, , , , , , , | Healthy | April 1, 2020

My wife was in labor for about twenty hours before deciding to do a cesarean section. I am 6’8″ tall and about 300 pounds. During our visits through the pregnancy, I regularly joked around with the doctor. Even in the Lamaze classes, I would joke around, typically embarrassing my beautiful wife.

My oldest son was born via C-Section at 11:50 PM on March 31st. I was there, I watched, and I was exhausted. It was gruesome and awesome at the same time. 

I was extremely emotional —  had a son! I was crying tears of joy. 

After he was extracted from his nine-month sentence inside of my wife, he was swaddled appropriately by the nurses in the operating room. We were both then whisked away: him to the nursery to get de-munged, and me to see my large family — brothers, parents, 

Godparents, etc. — all of whom were at the hospital waiting in anticipation of the big event. 

So, there I was, telling my family that we had a beautiful boy, and that everyone was okay. I was blubbering as tears were still streaming.

All of a sudden, in an over-the-top manner, a nurse came running around the corner and said, “Mr. [My Name], Mr. [My Name]! They need you back in the operating room! The second one just came out!”

Huh, what? What? WHAT?! Oh, my God! I started running down the hall to go back to the operating room. I’ve never been considered graceful, and it really wasn’t pretty to see me lumbering down the hall.

I heard the nurse call out again, “MR. [MY NAME]!”

My response was dramatic and immediate as I spun to look at her. “WHAT?” I exclaimed. 

With a very calm demeanor and a twinkle in her eye, she said, very matter-of-factly, “April Fools.”

I could have been knocked over with a feather. I stammered and stammered. Meanwhile, my family, who witnessed the event, were in stitches enjoying the whole scene as it played out in front of them. 

In the operating room, my wife was laughing (while being stitched back together). All of this was the doctor’s idea, II suppose a little of my own medicine after enduring me throughout the pregnancy.  

It’s a story that I tell often, not only for the humor in it, but also because it was one of the greatest days of my life: the day I met a great person, my wonderful son.

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