Thursday, March 31, 2011

Warts and All

Sean biffing it while his friends cry with laughter at his expense.

Elise, happy to get a hug from her brother.

Max (right), cheating on his homework.

One of my blog readers paid me a compliment today. Was it on my crystal clear photography? Hardly. My brilliant cooking techniques? Think again. “Thank you,” she said, “for not portraying your family as ‘sparkly.’” And you know, it’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve received in a long time.

With the divorce rate in America hovering around 50%, how is it that nearly every person you meet on the Internet has married their soulmates, and gone on to have perfect children who spend most of their time sitting Indian style with their hands in their laps?

When I was pregnant with my second child, I worried all the time. Would my baby be born healthy? Would my son hate his new sister? Could I manage it all? When I confided in an acquaintance, she looked at me like I was crazy. No, she never worried, she said. Everything was great, always was and always would be. When I relayed this conversation to my friend Amy, she responded this way: “Moms like that are dangerous. Do not talk to her ever again.

So here’s to my family—my husband who has never surprised me with a romantic getaway but will nearly always go downstairs to get me a glass of water. My sweet 15-year-old son who has yet to learn how to use a napkin. My 12-year-old daughter who was voted “most compassionate” by her classmates but rolls her eyes and stiffens in the most infuriating way if her little brother tries to hug her. And of course, my 8-year-old boy who sometimes “just wants to be with me” but who will never learn to say “excuse me” instead of “safety” when he, you know (which is a problem as well). Warts and all, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Amazing what a trip to Disneyland and a caramel apple will do for familial harmony.

1 comment:

  1. I believe that even Miss Manners says that "safety" is the preferred etiquette for gastric distress.