2005 September 13 archive at Functionally ReTodded

Archive for September 13th, 2005

Sep

Let me tell you a little story…

Categories: Uncategorized

The Wedding Story that won’t go away

Last night I was watching the Monday Night Football game featuring the Atlanta Falcons beating the 2004 NFC Champion Philadelphia Eagles. They didn’t beat them with trickery or luck. The Falcons scored enough points and their defense beat the ever-loving shit out of Donovan McNabb while a second year 5’10” cornerback covered Terrell Owens like a blanket, allowing him some catches for over 100 yards, but the only time TO smelled the end zone is after he was pushed down in it without the ball.

Anyway, late in the first half, former Atlanta Hawks coach Hubie Brown was brought into the booth with Madden and Michaels, and my phone rang. It was our Catholic-American friends the Z’s, and they were watching the same thing and it made them laugh, so they called to tell me that they were laughing and thinking of us.

What could possibly prompt a Catho-American couple to laugh at 10:16pm to the point that they had to call someone and tell them about it?

Let me tell you a story:

It was 1986. I was 17, had just graduated high school and was dating this great girl. She was two years younger than me, but she was great. We went to the prom together, I gave her my class ring, blah blah blah. (I guess I shouldn’t blah blah too much since she became my wife, but you know what I mean).

So, we had been dating for a little while when she asked me if I wanted to go to her older sister’s wedding. I figured “sure…why not? Free food and an open bar to sneak drinks from? Count me in!!”

Well, I said yes before I knew the whole deal. It was a big wedding to be held at a very big local Catholic church, and the reception was to be held at a prestigious local country club (for fun, let’s call it Bushwood).

I had a fabulous $100 suit, which was on its last legs since I had grown since Christmas, but I figured it’d get me thru the day. Come to think of it, I think that’s about how much I paid for the one suit that I own now.

I didn’t really have any responsibilities for the wedding proper other than just getting dressed, showing up on time to pick up my date to get her to the church for photos, and then to pretty much sit around and not look bored out of my mind, which of course I was.

One sidenote here. My date’s mom asked me if I could pick up her family from Pittsburgh at the airport. And I said sure. The flight got in a little before 4pm and it was June 20th, and was approximately a billion degrees Kelvin outside.

At the time, I was driving my kickass 1976 custom Chevy van. It was figuratively cool, but it was literally it was a fucking oven. The air conditioning compressor had been destroyed in an accident, and since replacing it would cost more than the van was worth, I didn’t worry about it. Of course, I hadn’t planned on fetching aunt Cathy, Uncle Eddie, Mike, Dave, Mark and Scott, in addition to Molly’s grandfather, who was 84 at the time.

We loaded all nine of us (plus seven people’s luggage) into the van and headed into Atlanta’s Friday rush hour traffic. It was then I realized that there might be trouble. If I were to guess, I’d say it was about 90ish outside, which means it was 2,400 degrees inside.

No one complained (except me) and we finally got the family delivered to my date’s house. To this day, the boys talk about that awesome airport trip.

Fast forward to the big day. I had only been to Catholic church once in my life, and it was with my friend Timmy Shields who said I should take communion with him, but he didn’t teach me the codeword or the secret handshake, so when I got up there, I might as well have been holding my dick in my hand to deserve the look I got from the priest. He reluctantly gave me communion, but I’m pretty sure he put a curse on me that day.

I got my date to the church in plenty of time. Then, it was a whole lot of sitting around and realizing that, outside of my date, , the bride, the groom, the groom’s brother, the bride’s mom and the family I picked up at the airport, I didn’t know a soul at this wedding.

Looking from the altar, the Church is setup in a fan shape, so I piled way WAY into the back right about five or so rows from the lobby and plopped right in the middle of a row, figuring no one would sit near me and that, as long as I didn’t snore, I would be left alone.

I then noticed that folks not only entered from the main door but also an auxiliary door over my left shoulder. After a while, I got tired of turning to look at who was coming in since I didn’t know anyone anyway, so I just stopped and resumed writing cuss words on the little cards in the back of the pew in front of me and slipping them into the hymnals as the church continued to fill…

While distracted by my imagination and the teeny pencil they give you, I heard the door behind me open and shut, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman around my mom’s age or so and she was falling.

Without thinking, I let my superhero senses and catlike reflexes take over. I stood up, took two big steps to my left and dove, just catching the falling damsel by her right arm. As I did so, I looked to her left. Astoundingly, there was a man, apparently with her, and he was doing nothing to help her. In fact, he was falling too.

Only he wasn’t falling. He was genuflecting. And it wasn’t just some guy. It was former Atlanta Hawks head coach and then New York Knicks head coach and now NBA Hall Of Fame coach Hubie Brown!!

What is going on here?

Coach Brown and his wife stood up, had a little chuckle amongst themselves and continued on to their seats, acting more or less as if nothing had happened.

I thought to myself “Okay, that was a little awkward, but I think the damage is minimal. Let’s just chill out, ride this wedding out and get to the reception for some crab pastries, chicken fingers and free beer.”

Only that last part never happened. Why? I’ll tell you why. Everywhere I turned was Hubie Brown (local celebrity and longtime close personal friend of the bride’s family) reaching out and putting an arm around me with a beer in his free hand and a circle of people around him, and then saying “come on young man…tell these folks how you saved my wife’s life today while she was genuflecting!”

Hardy freaking har.

I later married my date from that wedding and we’ve been married for over 13 years now and together nearly 20. And almost every year since, I’ve been at my mother in law’s house on Christmas day and answered the phone and found Claire Brown on the other end, and quickly and invariably the conversation would turn to that special day when I saved her life.

I’m glad I provided the parties involved with a story that would sustain them thru tough times, and I’m glad that I’ve been able to share it with you.

Let me give you some advice. If you ever see a woman out of the corner of your eye and she’s falling in church, let her hit the ground. That way YOU’LL have the funny story about her and not the other way around.

(Just kidding, Claire. I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything).

Sep

How would you handle this?

By Functionally ReTodded 0 Comments

Categories: Uncategorized

Yesterday afternoon was the same as pretty much any afternoon when I got home from work. Lauren was excited to see me, although yesterday she was VERY excited since the new Diego was on TV.

For those without kids, Diego is Dora’s male cousin. I think he was created because the parents of all of the boys in the world were concerned that it wasn’t healthy for their sons to be playing with girl dolls and wanting to be a girl for Halloween. So, corporate America responds with Diego, bi-lingual adventure boy and increases their sales by 100%. Yay.

We then had a lovely flank steak with Béarnaise sauce dinner, complete with rice and squash, the latter of which of course I, a devout carnivour, did not eat. While I cleaned the kitchen, the wife and the urchin went outside to play.

It is here that I must introduce several characters. If you have read my blog for a while, you’ll know the person I’ll refer to as FBS girl or just FBS. Because I don’t want to be accused of being coarse or unrefined, that’s what I’ll call the 5 year old girl that screamed “THIS IS FUCKING BULLSHIT!!” last Sunday after being told she’d be going inside the house as a disciplinary measure. This child is a rude, boorish, disobedient little shit with tendencies towards violence.

The other child involved is a 4 year old who is also a neighbor, and he is a rude, disobedient little shit. He just doesn’t cuss. He makes up for it, however, by throwing fantastic hissy fits that can last as long as 45 minutes, and have been thrown in the past on my garage floor. My favorite part about his folks’ parenting style is his dad’s desperate need to be liked, so he coddles him and tolerates all kinds of stuff.

Except when Dad’s “had enough,” which I think I’ve only seen once. He sternly walked over to the boy, picked him up and said “you don’t want me to have to get out Mr. Tickles, now do you?”

Not only is that something I don’t want to see, but I should have called DFACS as soon as he said it.

Anyway, these two children’s parents are very nice, and I know that parenting skills differ and it takes different things for different kids, but these four folks are failing miserably and their kids reflect that.

Now, know this. I leave in the morning well before my urchin awakens from her slumber, and if I get home at 5pm, I have exactly two and a half hours to spend where it’s just the three of us. We try to get outside for a while every night so Lauren can play and we can talk.

Anyway, these are the children and here’s the story.

Yesterday evening after cleaning up from dinner, we headed out front for some yard time. Uncle Todd and Heather and the boys also came over a little later, but not for the first 30 minutes or so.

FBS girl and her mom popped outside and asked if Lauren could come over and play. We replied that no, she could not, as we wanted her to play outside for a little while. FBS girl and her mom headed back inside and we figured that was it.

But no. Out come the mom, FBS girl and young Mr. Tickles, whose dad was apparently helping put in some light fixtures at FBS’ house. So here we all come to our front yard for some play time.

And here’s where I start to have a problem. You can raise your kid any way you want in your house. Really. That’s fine. But when you bring your kid(s) outside and their rearing starts affecting my kid, that’s when I get involved.

See, FBS girl is a brutish bully of a girl who, when she thinks no one is looking, likes to hit other kids, break things, and generally cause mayhem. I’ve seen it first hand. I do not turn my back on her for a second.

Mr. Tickles goes wherever he wants regardless of what any adults say (including inside my house more than once), cries horrifically when he doesn’t get his way, and also likes to break things. I also don’t turn my back on him for a second.

So wee tell the 3 kids to stay in my front yard. Period. Play tag, roll around, play soccer, whatever, but stay here. First thing out of the gate while playing tag, FBS girl throws Lauren to the ground. It’s not an accident. It never is. Then Mr. Tickles tags my daughter in the face with a fist. So much for this game. Lauren doesn’t cry, but she doesn’t understand kids like this. This behavior is not tolerated in our home.

We then go to soccer. Lauren gets a soccer ball, and FBS girl runs up and takes it. I tell her we have other balls to play with, and ask her to return Lauren’s and please go get another one for herself. She storms and stomps as does Mr. Tickles, who likes to hit himself in the head and growl when he doesn’t get his way.

Then the two children not of my loins begin leaving the yard. This brings out the new disciplinary tactic of FBS’s mom: “This is your final behavior warning, FBS. Do not take another step.” Repeat this 50 times with no ramifications and you’ve about got it down. Surprisingly, the child ignores her and continues inching towards where she’s going to see how far she can go. Lauren won’t dare.

I spend the next 45 minutes doing nothing other than watching these kids because they are constantly heading just out of eyesight and immediately doing things they’ve been told not to do. Lauren starts getting confused, as she wants to play with them, but doesn’t understand how they can continually disobey and not get in trouble.

So, we’ve had several multiple warning events, shoving incidents, hitting, sharing issues, and general bad sandbox skills. I am growing weary. Molly and I have discussed in recent days how we are going to address our concerns, especially with FSB’s parents, since they’re new and nice, but I’m fairly certain their kid’s the anti-Christ.

About that time, FBS grabs Lauren by the hand and runs in the opposite direction. This spins Lauren around, flings her feet out from under her and all I see is her feet up and her head falling. Lauren lands with a sickening thud, which is produced when the back of her head lands on the concrete driveway.

I went to her, picked her up, leaned over to about an inch from FBS’s face and screamed “YOU GO HOME!!!” and promptly took my child inside.

I have since been told that the several minutes that my in-laws and the neighbor stayed outside in my driveway were uncomfortable for all of them. I’d say I was sorry about that, but I’m not.

Lauren’s fine, aside from a nice knot on the back of her head, two scraped elbows and the confusion that comes from a 3 year old wondering why another kid is constantly doing these things to her.

See, I refuse to waste the little time I get each day with my child disciplining other people’s shit-ass kids. I love my daughter and I enjoy this time, and I enjoy that she is a well-disciplined, compassionate and polite child that is considerate of others, kids and adults alike. I think it’s likely that, as adults, FBS will be a serial killer and that Mr. Tickles will be an accomplice.

I feel bad that this morning, my wife will most assuredly field a call from FBS’s mom apologizing but at the same time taking issue with how I handled the situation. I have advised the wife that, if she doesn’t want to talk about it with FBS’ mom, she can direct that call to me.

I would simply say that while we enjoy your company, it is impossible for our child to play with your child if your child is going to act this way. We expect our children and all children to treat each other with respect and to obey adults and have basic manners. We work very hard to teach our daughter this and find that time with your child undoes this hard work at an alarming rate. Hopefully your child will begin behaving better and obeying adults and being respectful (which includes not talking like a penitentiary inmate), and when she does she is welcome to play with our child. But not until then.

So, look for more blogs in the future as this story unfolds, which it clearly will…