Got A Head(Ache) For Science

, , , , | | Related | August 22, 2019

(I am naturally a curious person and absorb information like a sponge. One of my interests is natural remedies. I tend to get headaches quite frequently when I am in middle and high school. In middle school, I come to the conclusion that applying cold will help alleviate the headache. And so, like any sane thirteen-year-old, I think that the coldest thing to press my forehead against is the ice machine inside the freezer. My father walks into the kitchen and sees me with my head against the ice machine.)

Father: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Trying to get rid of a headache. I read that they’re caused by dilated blood vessels. Cold is supposed to constrict the blood vessels, so it’ll help my headache.”

Father: *calling to my mother, clearly lost* “Honey, she’s talking science again!”

Got A Forehead For Business

, , , , , | | Related | August 21, 2019

(My brother and I — age 21 and 25 respectively — and our mum are sat in the living room together. My brother still lives with our parents and I’m here visiting. Somehow the topic of how much my mum does for my brother comes up. This is all said in a jokey manner.)

Mum: “Do I have ‘slave’ tattooed on my forehead?”

Brother: “I’ll pay you.”

Mum: *disbelief* “You’ll start paying me?”

Brother: “No, I’ll pay for you to have ‘slave’ tattooed on your forehead.”

 

Boys Will Be Boys

, , , , | | Related | August 21, 2019

(I love my mother dearly, but she has certain beliefs that can drive me insane. One of these is that fathers cannot possibly be as competent at childcare as mothers. When my husband and I have our first child, Mom becomes convinced that having two fathers means he’s doomed. She’s not homophobic; she would have been perfectly fine with two mothers. She just believes that behind her back we’re dangling the kid above hungry lions or taping him to the wall and throwing knives at him. She definitely believes we can’t be feeding him properly. When our son is two, I’ve just sat him down to lunch when Mom shows up unannounced at our door. I invite her to join us, and she immediately takes a huge bite of my homemade tuna salad. I add things like brown mustard and horseradish, and she makes a disgusted face that turns to horror when she sees a bowl in front of my son.)

Mom: “[My Name], what are you thinking? You can’t feed that to a baby! It’s way too strong; it’ll upset his stomach!”

Me: “Mom, he loves it. He eats it all the time. He even asked me for today. Hey, [Son], do you like Daddy’s tuna?”

Son: “Yeah! Nummy!”

Mom: “I raised five children and I know what I’m talking about! I’ll make him something suitable.” *reaches for my son’s bowl* “Here, sweetheart. Let Grandma get rid of that yucky stuff and make you some oatmeal.”

(Before my Mom could grab the bowl, my son snatched it up and held it against his chest. In the evilest tone I think a toddler is capable of, he hissed at her, “MINE!” My mother quickly left as though she expected his head to start spinning around. My son is ten now and my mother has mellowed out a lot and was far less controlling when our daughter was born. I say, “less,” because she still tries her best. However, she’s never again attempted to take food away from my kids.)

Make Him Green Or He’ll Be Blue

, , , , , , | | Related | August 20, 2019

(I run a face-painting booth at an annual fair for charity. Every year there seems to be a design that all the kids want; this year, it’s a certain spider-themed superhero. A mother has been waiting in line with her son, and it’s their turn.)

Mother: “He wants to be [Superhero].”

(She pushes him towards the chair. The kid sits down but looks quite unhappy, so I decide to check with him.)

Me: “Is that what you want?”

Kid: “Wannabegreen.”

Mother: *talking over him* “He wants to be [Superhero]!”

(He looks resigned, and I feel bad for him, so I ignore Mum and keep talking to him.)

Me: “Do you mean like [Famously Angry Green Superhero]?”

Kid: “No, I just wanna be green.”

Mother: “You can’t be green. He wants to be [Superhero], like the other kids. Tell her you want to be [Superhero].”

Me: “If he says he wants to be green, I’ll paint him green.”

Kid: “Green!”

Mother: *rolling her eyes* “Oh, fine, whatever!”

(She turned around and stalked off. I went with the kid’s request, and he was absolutely ecstatic… and very green.)

Dad Has You Covered, Whether You Want It Or Not

, , , , , , , | | Related | August 20, 2019

For reasons I don’t want to get into, my relationship with my parents soured when I was in college. Among other things, they started micromanaging my life. 

For example, when I was starting a hunt for a job, my dad decided I needed a cover letter. He talked to me as I was about to go to bed — at almost midnight — telling me I needed to have a cover letter written by 9:00 the next morning. So, I got up at 8:00 — earlier than usual, and I am definitely not a morning person — and spent the next hour writing the cover letter. 

Oddly, Dad didn’t come to check on me at 9:00. I soon found out why: he’d decided to write a cover letter for me. But it was good that I’d done my assignment because now he was going to compare the two cover letters and change his to match my wording any time the two cover letters were similar. Then, he’d send me his finished draft and I would send it to potential employers!

I revised my cover letter by myself and used it without telling him. No idea what difference it made to the job hunt, but I did find a job. I have since moved out of my parents’ house and my mental health is much improved.