Sep

The Underwear Bib

I headed back to Mom’s bedroom to let her know I was going to town. I knocked on her bedroom door and then peeked in. There was Mom, an empty ice cream wrapper on her bed, chomping on an ice cream sandwich with a pair of underwear around her neck. She looked at my expression of shock and said,“Oops! You caught me eating an ice cream.”

“It’s not the ice cream, Mom.” I started laughing and pointed to her underwear bib.

“Well, I needed a bib to keep the chocolate off my blouse.”

“Underwear, Mom?”

“What’s wrong with that?! They’re clean…”

Then she added, “Oh, great. This is going to make it to your bloggy thingy, isn’t it? It used to be you could do something and the whole world didn’t know about it. Just make sure you write about all the stupid things your dad does as well ‘cuz I don’t want to be the only one.”

“Oh don’t you worry, Mom. I’ll write about Dad just as much…in fact even more.”

“Good, good. He’s a good man but he can be an idiot as well. I think the world needs to know that.”

Sep

Banana Wieners

Grandpa watches Grandma make his breakfast every morning and the whole time he is comments on all that she could do differently. He’s been doing this for the past sixty five years.

Grandpa in a teasing voice: You noticed Grandma gives me the ends of the banana in my cereal. How come I get the ends? All my life I have gotten the short end of the stick. Why should now be any different?

Grandma: You’re lucky I’ve made your breakfast every morning for most of my life. I’d just pipe down if I were you.

Grandpa: I’ll pipe down when you give me that good ol’ center of the banana.

Grandma gives him his cereal with the ends of the banana in it.

Grandpa: Do you see this? I’ve been mistreated all my life. The ends of the banana.

Grandma: You’re lucky I don’t put the strings in as well…honestly…

Grandpa just doesn’t know when to stop. He tells everyone at the table how neglected he is as Grandma gets more annoyed. Grandma sighs heavily.

The next morning he starts it up again.

Grandpa: I suppose you’re going to give me the ends of the banana like you have for the past sixty five years. You know, I don’t even know what the center of a banana tastes like.

Grandma: Do you even know how to peel a banana on your own?

Grandpa: Oh sure, beat up the old and decrepit.

Grandma continues to make breakfast.

Grandpa: You’d think that as old as I am that I would one day see what it was like to eat the center of the banana…

Grandma comes over with Grandpa’s bowl. Right in the center of his bowl is two halves of a banana with the peel still on sticking up like statues in the middle of his milk and cherrios.

Grandma: How’s that working for ya? Huh? Just like you like it; two yellow banana wieners sticking up out of the middle of your breakfast cereal. Think maybe you could peel them on your own or do you need a little help with that?

Grandpa: It’s fine, just fine.

He leans over to Peanut and whispers loudly: I never did know when to shut up. But once she draws the line in the sand I know what side to stand on…Grandma’s.

Grandma: You bet your booty! There is only one side to stand on in this house and that is mine especially since I am the one that prepares your food.

Then she adds in: Bethie, did you order that arsenic for me online? You know the one that is disguised in two banana halves?!

Grandpa: You know, I really like the ends of a banana. It’s my favorite part…

Sep

The Screw

I keep a list by the phone for anyone to write on if they need something at the store. Since Mom and Dad no longer drive, I pick up all that they need. Each day someone adds something to the list and sometimes it can be easy to misinterpret. Mom was writing down all that she needed.

“Bethie, could you pick up some puppy food for me?”

“We don’t have a dog, Mom.”

“You know what I mean, your Dad’s cereal.”

“Sure…”

“What do you have already listed here? I don’t want to double up on something.”

She reads what I have written and she begins to tee hee until she starts guffawing.

“Bethie, your list here. You have written ‘pick up milk, tell the pharmacist about your Dad’s meds, pick up card, and then…” She giggles some more, “Screw.”

Dad’s ears perk up. “You had to write ‘screw’ on your list? You are one busy girl, Bethie.”

“No, I wouldn’t write THAT down. What I need is a long screw.”

Dad and Mom go into fits of laughter.

“Bethie, a long screw?!!!!” Dad can’t catch his breath.

“No, I mean, I mean…”

They can’t hear a word I’m saying as they go on and on about the long screw I have to have.

Sigh…

I walk over to the list and write what I really mean ‘long screw for the window sill.’

Mom has sat next to Dad as they sit and guffaw together.

“Oh! I have to get to the bathroom quick!” Mom gets up as quick as she can to rush to the bathroom.

Dad yells to her as she is walking away, “Get a long screw while you’re at it!”

Sigh… all I needed was a screw for the window…

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Jul

A Whole New Meaning to ‘Yes Dear’

We were all sitting around the table after lunch and Dad was in quite the mood. He was trying to be funny.

Dad: I like to keep your mom in line. If I didn’t, she’d be taking her love to town.

Mom: Yes dear.

Dad: Did you know your mother is mean to me on a daily basis? I just don’t know how I’ve been able to handle her for sixty five years.

Mom: Yes dear.

Dad: I wish you’d cut my watermelon just a smidgen smaller so I wouldn’t have to chew. In fact, you think you could chew for me?

Mom: Yes dear.

Lee looked at my dad and finally said something: You do know what she means by ‘yes dear,’ don’t you? Yes dear mean F_ _ _ you!

Mom with a smile: Yes dear…

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Jun

Not a Word or Else She’ll Flip you the Bird

Mom: I didn’t sleep well last night. I woke up at 2:00am and couldn’t go back to sleep. I laid there wondering why…did I eat something that kept me awake, was someone in the family hurt, was there something wrong? So I just laid there and did a little prayin’ just in case.

Me: You know, Mom. It doesn’t necessarily have to be something wrong when you don’t sleep. Maybe you just couldn’t sleep.

Mom: Maybe I was supposed to pray, I don’t know.

Dad put in his two cents: When I can’t sleep because of some problem I pray one time and only one time then I figure the big guy in the sky will take care of it. I really don’t feel the need to control it.

Mom shot Dad a look and flipped him the bird.

Mom: Well, aren’t we just Mr. Perfect?!

Me: Have you tried calming your mind, Mom?

Mom: There are just too many distractions and thoughts to take care of.

Me: You could try clearing your mind. I find that if I can’t sleep I use it as a good time to clear my mind so I focus on my breathing and keep shifting my focus to think of nothing every time a distraction tries to pop up.

Mom stuck her tongue out at me: Well, laa dee dah Ms. Perfect.

This whole time Sissy was sitting at the table being absolutely quiet.

Mom shot a look at Sissy: You want to put your two cents in?!

Sissy kept her head down and smiled: I’m not going to say one word…not one.

Mom: Smart girl…

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Jun

Dad and his Bountiful Harvest

Dad came in with the bounty of his broccoli harvest; that would be one sprig of broccoli. He came in holding the sprig high in the air and proclaimed, “Behold! The harvest is upon us! Who wants broccoli?” He placed the pitiful piece of broccoli on a napkin. “I’m going to ask your mom if she’ll cook it up for us.” He shuffled off to his bedroom. And then I heard Mom’s giggle, then laughter, and then doubled over laughter.

“One measly piece? You want me to do what? Cook it? One piece…for ALL of us?!” She then came walking in. “Where’s the piece of broccoli, Bethie?” I pointed on the table and kept working on my laptop. Mom started laughing even louder and was wiping her eyes. “He wants me to cook it and split it among us! What is the matter with him? Why does he need that adoration? One measly piece.” She hobbled into the kitchen and pulled out a pan. All the other pans toppled out. “Well, crap.” She grumbled as she cleaned it up. “All this for one little tree. The things I do for your father.”

Dad came into watch. “Could you cut it into five pieces so we can all have a piece?”

“You’re joking, right? There is no way it is going to cut into five pieces.” Mom waited for the little sprig to cook. “Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you but your youngest son is going to be here for your birthday.”

“Why’d you tell me? I thought it was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Cuz you shouldn’t be surprised at your age. You might have a heart attack.”

She pulls the broccoli piece out of the pan, puts it on a big plate, and then gives it to Dad. “You want some mayonnaise with that?”

“Sure! And a knife and fork too.”

Mom rolls her eyes and mumbles, “A knife and fork…ridiculous.” She hands Dad the utensils. Dad tucks a napkin into the front of his shirt. He puts the knife in one hand and the fork in the other. He meticulously cuts off a teeny tiny portion of the teeny tiny piece of broccoli. “How ‘bout that mayo?”

Mom brings over the jar and plops it in front of him. “I don’t know. Think that is enough? I mean, that IS a big piece of broccoli.”

Dad slaps on a boatload of mayo onto the little green sprig and eats it in one big gulp. “Tasty.”

“All that for one gulp? Oh for goodness sake!”

Dad took the napkin out of his shirt front and dabbed each corner of his mouth. “My work is done here.” He got up, put the cat on his walker, and they wheeled away to his puzzle room.

Mom shook her head, “YOUR father is about two tacos short of a combo plate, you know that?”

Jun

The Long and Winding Road to the Punch Line

“Oh, I have such a big day today!” Mom exclaimed at breakfast. “I’m tired and I haven’t even started!”

“What is so different about today Mom?” I ask.

“I have to do the laundry, sweep the porch, water the garden, take a shower, and cut your father’s hair.”

“How come you don’t spread it out over the week instead?” I suggest. “That way you won’t get so tired?”

“Oh be quiet, Bethie. That would make too much sense.”

I know when to keep quiet. I can’t talk her out of anything once she puts her mind to it. Mom changes the subject.

“I heard the cutest joke…”

Uh oh. Mom tends to mutilate jokes. She gets distracted from the punch line. She said it is her eighty one year old mind that forgets but I remember her always forgetting the punch lines even as a little girl.

“So this old old woman. Let’s see, maybe about a hundred years old…” she begins. “Well, maybe she is more like ninety…I don’t know.”

“I get the picture Mom. She’s old.”

“Yes, she’s old. This old woman, maybe about ninety…well, I don’t know. What IS considered old anyway?”

“I get it Mom. She’s old.”

“Yes she is. You have no idea what it is like to be old. Everything gets foggy and you can’t stoop over anymore. Did you know I have to have your dad cut my toenails? I never thought I would do that.”

“Did you have a joke for me Mom?”

“A joke? Oh yes! The joke. Okay, so there is this old woman. She’s about…”

I interrupt, “Let’s say she is about ninety to a hundred.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Okay, so she goes to her doctor and said that she is just too old and wants to die. She wants to know how she can kill herself. She wants to know exactly where her heart is.”

Mom thinks for a minute. “Bethie, did you know that a heart really isn’t shaped like a heart? It is more shaped like a big gigantic strawberry.”

“I did know that, Mom.”

“I wonder where they got the actual shape of a heart for love? It looks nothing like a real heart.”

“I don’t think it would look very good if they drew a picture of what a heart really looks like for the sign of love.”

“That would be disgusting.”

“Did you have the joke for me Mom?”

“Oh, the joke. Where was I…so this old woman wanted to kill herself so she asked her doctor where her heart was so that when she shot herself she was dead on.”

Mom giggles, “DEAD on!”

“Is that the joke?”

“What?”

“Dead on? Is that the punch line?”

“No, why would it be. It’s funny but not THAT funny.”

Sigh…

“The doctor says, “Well your heart is right below your left breast. The old woman thanks him and leaves. She goes home, gets out her gun, ready to meet her maker, and then pulls the trigger.”

I’m a bit shocked at Mom’s joke. She freaks out if she sees a gun on the television but I know not to distract her because the punch line IS coming. I can tell because she shifts her body, braces herself for the big laugh, and giggles before she can get it out. I wait until her timing is right.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Mom! The punchline first?!”

“This old bladder can’t wait.”

I sip my coffee and realize that half an hour has passed since we began.

She comes back in and sits down to drink her coffee. She smiles at me and says, “Why are you staring at me?”

“The punch line, Mom…”

She looks confused.

“To your joke?”

“Oh that. It’s really not THAT funny.”

I beg her for the punch line.

“Okay, okay. She thinks her heart is right below her left breast just like the doctor told her. So she aims, pulls the trigger, and shoots herself in the knee.” Then she explains further just in case I didn’t get it. “She shoots herself in the knee ‘cuz her boobs are old and have sagged down to her knees!” She gets to giggling and gets me to giggling as well.

“Good joke, Mom.”

“I thought so. So how old do you think she was, anyway?”

Sigh…

May

Pickled Vegetables and Itchy Skin

Living in a multi generational house is quite an experience. We all get along really well as long as we know when to keep our mouths shut and when to open them wide. As Dad gets older he has mellowed with age. Well, in some ways. He is still a stubborn opinionated man. I guess most would call him ‘an old coot.’ Actually Lee does call him that at times especially when Dad has diarrhea of the mouth. He doesn’t have an ‘off’ button. He will drill his opinion right into the ground and then forgets he said a word and starts it all over again. Mom kicks him under the table and he yelps. He used to get the cue and keep quiet but anymore he just says, “Hey! What did you kick me for? I was talking!”

Every morning he moans about us using too many paper towels. “Can’t you just wash ‘em and reuse? In my day…”

Dad also has no problem with picking at his skin at the table and wiping the dry skin on his pants. What’s wrong with that you may say? We’re eating dinner at the time. Mom freaks out and says, “Don’t, don’t. Not at the table.” He rolls his eyes and says, “I was just itchin’ it.” After he wipes his hands on his handkerchief he opens up the pickled vegetables and reaches in, with his fingers that were just on his itchy skin, and gets a few of his favorite picked cauliflower. Sissy grimaces. Dad looks at her and asks, “You want some? I’ll get one for you.” Sissy can’t say no quick enough. Dad then sticks his finger in the butter to butter his bread. “Use a knife, Harold. How have you not gotten everyone sick in this house!” Mom says with admonishment.

“What? I was doing it for you. I didn’t want you to have to wash an extra knife.” That would be funny if Dad wasn’t serious. He actually means that. You see, Dad was the baby brother of three boys. When he came along his grandma was ready to spoil the last of her grandchildren. And it was Dad who got the spoiling. They lived in a house that had a drippy roof. The three brothers slept in the same bed. When it would really rain they placed buckets at the end of their bed for all the leaks. The water would splash up and get the boys wet as they tried to sleep…except for Dad. His grandma would let him sleep in her dry bed on the other side of the room. The two older brothers would sit and shake in the cold while Dad had his grandma’s comforter snuggled around his head. That says it all, doesn’t it?

Mom reminds him every day of how spoiled he is. “I lay out your underwear, your clothes, I wash your clothes, I feed you, I give you your shots, and all you have to do is pull out a clean hankie and keep your fingers out of the pickle jar. That’s it.”

“What else have I got to do?” he says as he starts picking at his skin once again.

Mom points at the offending finger that Dad picks with and says, “Give me that finger!”

Dad smiles and flips her the bird.

Mom grabs his finger and gives him the stink eye, “I love you too selfish bastard.”

What’s it like living in a multi generational household? It’s an amazing, loved filled, laugh filled, scary, and often gross experience but I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, except for the handkerchief.

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May

The Cable Guy

We thought we were safe. Our internet and cable had gone dark and we had scheduled a technician to come out the following morning between 8: am and 10: am but for some reason the internet and the cable came back on its own so Lee called in and cancelled the appointment. Thank goodness. We always make a point to be the ones to greet anyone at the door. Mom is the one that you don’t want to answer the door especially if you are an unmarried guy who has no idea what he is walking into.

I hear a knock on the door at exactly 8: am the next morning. I move into high gear and throw on my clothes as fast as I can to get to the door but I was too late. Mom had already answered.

“Bethie, the cable guy is here.” I hear Mom asking him if he’d like a cup of coffee. “Have a seat. Would you like some breakfast?”

“No thanks ma’am. I’m here to look at your internet and cable.”

I struggle to get on my pants as I shake Lee awake, “The cable man is here. Didn’t you cancel the appointment?”

Lee wakes out of a dead sleep, “I did. I did. You better get out there.”

I can hear Mom talking, “If I’d have known you were coming I would have put on my clothes. I’m embarrassed that I’m in my mu mu.”

Dad interrupts, “Oh, he doesn’t care, do ya? Have a seat, have a seat. Are you married? Got any kids?”

I get out there just in time. The cable guy looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh, no Sir. I’m not married. I haven’t found ‘the one’ quite yet.”

Mom steps in, “Oh, really? But you’re such a handsome fellow. Why haven’t you found anyone yet? Is there something wrong?” Mom looks him up and down, “I have a granddaughter that is available.”

The cable guy begins to sweat.

I save the guy, “Hi there.” I look at his name tag. “Aaron is it?” He still has the ‘deer in headlights’ look. It looks as if he is reliving a conversation he has had with his own mother.

“We cancelled the appointment, Aaron.” He snaps out of his stupor.

“They asked me to come out anyway because the signal is weak.”

“Okay, uh…” I’m trying to think fast. The box he needs to look at is in the back of the house in Peanut’s room. Peanut is dead asleep and waking her is like waking a bear from hibernation in the spring. I’m trying to figure out how to get her up without leaving Dad and Mom with the cable guy. They’re going to eat him alive. I know I have no choice. “I’ll be right back.” The cable guy wipes his forehead and acts as if he wants to bolt out the front door.

I run down the hall and fling open Peanut’s door, “Wake up! The cable guy is here. He needs to check the box under all your stuff.” You see, Peanut buries everything. It doesn’t matter what it is, it is covered in a pile of clothes or books. Being a teen in this house takes quite a strong spirit with all the opinions flying but she is a teen none the less. She can hold her own but her room is off limits to everyone…except the cable guy. Peanut jumps out of bed and starts flinging clothes as she digs for something to wear. I run back to the living room to find the cable guy sitting at the table looking for some escape.

Mom is pouring a cup of coffee for him. “Just try it. It won’t bite. Coffee will grow hair on your chest.”

“Uh, thank you ma’am but as I said, I don’t drink coffee.”

“Oh, you’re one of those health nuts, huh?” Dad says. “Coffee is good for you. In my day coffee was a staple and now all you young men think the only way to a girl’s heart is through beefing up and drinking green crap. It’s coffee my friend, coffee.” Dad continues, “You need to go to one of those coffee places and find a girl that’s not at one of those sweaty gyms. Who wants a sweaty guy anyway? When you get old your body will sag no matter what you do believe me! And EVERYTHING sags if you get my meaning.” Dad chuckles.

The cable guy actually takes a gulp of the coffee. He winces and then takes another gulp.

I smile at the guy, “Would you like something a little stronger?”

“Another coffee convert!” Mom says triumphantly. She has no idea that he hates it and he is hoping it is poisoned so that he can be put out of his misery.

Sissy comes out of her room all ready for college.

Mom winks at him, “THIS is my granddaughter.” Mom puts her arm around Sissy, “Say hello to the nice man. His name is Aaron and he lifts weights.”

Sissy knows Mom oh too well. She smiles at the cable guy, “They giving you a hard time?”

He weakly smiles.

“Oh you can do better than that, Aaron,” Mom coaches.

“Grandma! I HAVE a boyfriend,” Sissy says.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

Sissy rolls her eyes as the cable guy goes to check the cable box.

Mom looks at Sissy, “Did you see how he looked at you?”

“GRANDMA!”

“He wants you…”

“GRANDMA!”

“He’s got muscles AND he drinks coffee.”

“I’m done, Grandma. I HAVE a boyfriend.”

“I don’t see a ring…”

I don’t believe THAT particular cable guy will be back. We seem to go through a lot of different technicians around here. Can’t imagine why, can you?

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Jun

Dad on Raising Children

Sometimes Dad can get on a kick about something. The other day his ‘kick’ was raising children.

“In my day we didn’t raise children on a computer. They ran outside and played and then came in when we made dinner.”

“We?” Mom questioned. “Really, we? When did you ever make dinner?”

“Oh you know what I meant.” Dad kept pontificating. “Not only that, kids didn’t need so many things like they do now. If we had a good pair of shoes and underwear we were good to go.”

Mom was in quite a mood. “And then some of us didn’t want to open their dust covered wallet for the shoes now, did they?”

“I was talking about when I was a little boy,” completely ignoring her ‘hint’ at his tight-waddedness. He continued, “We didn’t even celebrate birthdays. On my birthday my mom would tell me to go charge a pair of pants at the local mercantile. That was it. No cake, no nothing. And look how I turned out?”

“Exactly. Look how you turned out. “She pointed to his wallet. “When was the last time you opened that up?” She looked at me. “You know it creaks when it opens. It’s barely ever used.”

Dad smiled, “I was also taught to be thrifty.”

Mom shakes her head. “You know? I think every single child could use therapy. We all think we did it just right but when we all grow up we all got problems.”

“I got no problems,” Dad said.

“Usually bumps on logs don’t have problems. And usually bumps on logs don’t care if they let their daughter and son-in-law pay for everything.”

Dad put his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead.

“Pray tell, what are you doing?” Mom asked.

Dad looked at me and grinned. “I’m being a bump on a log.”

Mom sighed. “Honestly!”

Beth's Imperfectly Perfect Life

Tag Archives: family humor

The Underwear Bib

Banana Wieners

The Screw

A Whole New Meaning to ‘Yes Dear’

Not a Word or Else She’ll Flip you the Bird

Dad and his Bountiful Harvest

The Long and Winding Road to the Punch Line

Pickled Vegetables and Itchy Skin

The Cable Guy

Dad on Raising Children