Thursday, February 24, 2011

Boxing Match

Last weekend we saw "The Fighter". Great movie. Great story. Great cast. I loved the mother - a tough, cigarette smoking broad loaded with faults played by Melissa Leo.

In one scene she is arguing with her husband and daughters about the direction one of her sons is going. One of her daughters dares to side with the brother and the mom gives her a drop dead look and asks, "Are you disrespecting me in my own kitchen?"

Why didn't I ever think of that? Disrespecting your mother in her kitchen is like spitting on a grave. Bad, bad idea. I have given life to children who twenty years later stand in my kitchen with the fridge open, grazing away and saying, "Is this all you've got to eat? There's nothing in here (chomp, chomp, chomp). What's the deal with the fruit?"

I am hereby empowered. Disrespect my dancing, disrespect my hair on high-humidity days, disrespect my need to always have lipstick on when I leave the house (so I don't look dead) or disrespect my fondness for yoga pants when I don't have a yoga body. But disrespect me in my kitchen? I just got me some boundaries.

3 comments:

  1. Girl, posted at 4:36 AM? Next time, give me a call. I'm up all night, at 2-hour intervals, with 15-minute snoozes in between. I'd sleep longer, I suspect, if the doc wasn't going into apnea seizures every few minutes. I'm not placing blame on him, however: I recall many a night of silence as I stare at the outline of the window shades, refusing to check the bedside clock, which I've turned away from sight. Had to, after one memorable incident, in which I came to, checked the time and--out loud--muttered, disbelieving, "TWO TWENTY? IT'S ONLY TWO TWENTY?" I don't do that, anymore.

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  2. For some reason I am waking before the birds this week. I have no idea why but it needs to stop.

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  3. It wasn't the kitchen where I diss'd mom but I learned my lesson. Kathy's 2 other brothers and myself, her oldest brother, lived in the same room growing up, which meant that we slept, did homework played and YES even fought in that same room. During one "main event" mom had enough and, with all of her <5' frame, came in swinging the belt for all she was worth. She caught my other brothers significantly more times than she did me but I was smart enough to grab my ass with both hands and cry just as loud. I was dumb enough to say "ha ha she missed me" while she was still in the hallway. Needless to say she came back in that room like a Predator drone and unleashed a "shock and awe" attack on me, the likes we'd never seen all the time saying "am I hitting you now?". I'm still trying to make up for that one!

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