Caning Is Coming Back As A Disciplinary Tool

, , , , , , | Related | September 11, 2018

(I grew up across the street from a family of seven kids; I was best friends with their youngest. Their second oldest was born with cerebral palsy. Although the doctors at the time urged his parents to institutionalize him, they ignored them and treated him like all the other kids. He had a severe speech impediment, and had to walk with a cane, but his brain was fine, and he was just one of the gang. He was never allowed to use his disability to get away with anything. One day, I am over playing with my friend, and her brother is sitting in the living room watching TV. As we go back and forth through the house, he tries to trip us with his cane, every. Single. Time. Finally, after about the sixth time, his sister grabs his cane and puts it in his bedroom two rooms away, and we bolt. He has to make his way very, very slowly down the hall to his room, holding onto the wall the whole way. On the way, he passes his mom, who is doing dishes in the kitchen.)

Brother: “Mom! [Sister] took my cane!”

Mom: “You tried to trip her. You had it coming.”

Brother: “Can you get it for me?”

Mom: “Nope. Leave your sister alone next time.”

(She went back to her dishes, and brother continued his trek. He grumbled, but he never did torment us that way again. I found that whole family the world’s best model for how to interact with folks with varying abilities: treat ’em like everyone else!)

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Ranting Is Coming

, , , , , | Related | September 10, 2018

(I am a huge “Game of Thrones” geek, and have just finished a ramble about how it’s likely that Daenerys will die during the War for the Dawn and Jon Snow will take the Iron Throne.)

Mom: “For the sake of peace in this house, I hope Jon does end up on the Iron Throne. Otherwise, you will be angry and ranting about it for months.”

(I stare at her for a good ten seconds.)

Me: “I really want to be offended by that… but I can’t; you’re absolutely right.”

Sandy Is Dandy

, , , , | Related | September 10, 2018

(My mom got a cat she named Sandy while she was an officer in the military. Sandy was declawed in her front paws before my mom got her. When she moved to a house on a mountain, she took extra precautions to make sure Sandy was in her house at night, afraid that Sandy would be eaten by a wild animal. Come time for her to move, and the moving company comes to take her furniture. She cannot find Sandy.)

Mom: “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #1: “Sorry, ma’am, I haven’t.”

Mom: *to another mover* “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #2: “Sorry–“

(Suddenly, a German Shepherd with its tail between its legs darts between the mover and my mom, followed by a sand-colored streak. My mom’s jaw drops.)

Mover #2: “Ma’am, I don’t think you have to worry a thing about that cat.”

(He was right. Sandy stayed with Mom for over ten more years. Her most arduous trial was tolerating her owner’s first baby pulling her tail.)

Unfiltered Story #120122

, | Unfiltered | September 10, 2018

(I come back home for summer vacation and need the Wifi password, but my family does not remember. I decided to call the company that set up the internet connection to see if they can help.)

Me: “We forgot the password, so I’m just wondering if you could do something to help?”

Tech Support: “Can you plug the internet cable into your computer?”

Me: “I can’t. I am using a MacBook Air; it doesn’t have a port to insert the internet cable.”

Tech Support: “No, it has. Can you please check it?”

Me: “I’m telling you. Air’s don’t have a port for an internet cable.”

(This went on for a bit with the guy insisting that my laptop must have one till I just gave up and hung up. Guess he must think I am really stupid. So much for tech support!)

Sweet Mystery Sauce

, , , , , , , , | Related | September 9, 2018

I will start off by saying that my mom is a very sweet and kind lady. However, sometimes she can be a little… judgy, especially towards my husband. He is more than aware of this, but they usually get along pretty well.

My mom recently had a project for work — involving crafting and kids — that used sugar. She had no idea how much sugar she would need, so she did what any reasonable person would do; she bought a large 35-pound bag of sugar. She didn’t need nearly that much, and is now up to her elbows in sugar. She has started storing it in large containers and putting them in the freezer.

Notably, my husband and I go through a lot of sugar, the biggest contributing factor being that he is a hopeless coffee addict. One evening, I’m getting ready to leave my parents’ house when it starts storming. My husband had asked me earlier in the day to stop at the store on the way home and pick up sugar. Upon seeing the rain, I mention to my mom that I don’t really feel like stopping. She goes to the freezer and pulls out what is probably about three or four pounds of sugar and gives it to me, telling me to let her know if I need more. I thank her and head out.

Not two weeks later, we have used most of the container, and I estimate that we will be out in a day or two. I mention to my husband that I will probably ask for more sugar when I see my mom next. He suggests buying some from the store because he “doesn’t want my mom’s judgment about our sugar usage.” I wave him off, and my mom is happy to unload more sugar.

A couple days later, I mention to my husband that she didn’t seem to care about our rate of sugar intake. In fact, she had more to say about the fact that I had brought my drink from home with me when I went to visit, instead of taking one that she offered!

My husband was silent for a moment before finally saying, “Your mother is an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, and slathered with mystery sauce.”

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