The King is dead. Long live the King.
Not that I’m actually an Elvis fan, but I had the misfortune fortune to marry one. And today, he would have been 73. (It’s also Audra’s birthday, but she never reads my blog so I don’t need to say anything about that)
EDITED TO ADD: Donn would like me to point out that Elvis would have been 73, not Donn.
When I was in college, I actually wrote a deep and meaningful short story about a young man named Elvis Smith, whose mother was one of those girls kissed by Elvis at a concert. It was the highlight of her life and nothing else ever measured up and she named her unfortunate son after the star and he grew up fat and depressed, living a meaningless life (and who can be more cruel on the subject of the meaningless middle-aged than an idealistic early-20s-something?), crushed under the weight of this event. It was packed with symbolism.
Sadly, I lost it ages ago. I didn’t have the sense to see the future humour inherent in my life at the time. Instead, I would reread things months or years later and be filled with deep shame and then throw them out, or occasionally burn them.
Now I read Bub & Pie and Lifenut, who occasionally reprint their jr high diaries, and I’m filled with regret that I burned my old journals from jr high. They were both melodramatic and snide, which can be a hard combination to pull off. Back then, every few months I would reread old entries about my great sorrows and add comments in the margin that were both sarcastic and overemotional AT THE SAME TIME.
I reread these gems when I was about 25 and was depressed about it for weeks. I’d had no idea that I was such an idiot! So, in my deep shame, I burned them, not knowing at the time that everyone is melodramatic and snide and sorrowful, all at the same time, in their teens. Too bad. Although I still don’t think I’d have the guts to share them with the whole internet.
The topic at the table tonight turned to the twins’ birthday, which is March 1. This is actually still a forbidden topic. I do not allow discussions of birthday plans until a month before the actual day, although I have been known to break down at 6 weeks before the blessed date. And we’re close; it‘s about 7 weeks now, right? This is to avoid having to discuss birthday plans for 363 days out of the year. Believe me, there was a need for this rule.
It turns out that the twins, while they LIKE being twins, wish they didn’t share the same birthday. “We never get to have sleepover parties,” said Ilsa, opening her eyes wide. “You did last year!” I protested, privately contemplating my “never again” vow that I made to myself at the time, when they celebrated separately for the first time ever, which meant TWO weekends spoilt endeared to memory by loud ceaseless merriment.
They discussed the hard issues of being twins, including the terrible fact that there are only 3 meals to be eaten on their birthday. I don’t make them compromise but I do encourage agreement whenever possible; it makes my life simpler. I remember when they turned 4 and Abel wanted Pad Thai and Ilsa wanted pepperoni pizza so we got both; easy enough in Portland (where we were at the time), but a bit more difficult when in Nouakchott, where the choices are basically shwarmas or shwarmas. I usually have to cook, and I prefer to only do that once a day if that, so I don’t like it when Abel wants burritos and Ilsa wants roast chicken and mashed potatoes. And for some reason, he didn’t want chicken and potatoes rolled up in Arabic bread (which we used for tortillas–you tear it in half and it works great).
This year, Abel had an idea to make it easier. “We’ll start with breakfast and then we’ll have second breakfasts,” he said. “Then we’ll have lunch. Then tea. Then dinner, and then supper! We’ll choose 3 meals each!”
Sigh.
The pressure is building already. But I’m determined–no more separate parties. Life is too short, and after all they need things to tell their therapist later in life.
The topic changed to how many chips Elliot could eat at one time. Ilsa made faces at him; he protested the making of faces. Ilsa ate one of her own chips. “Ilsa ate a chip reproachfully,” said Elliot.
They do this all the time–describe themselves and each other in the third person. Do your kids do this? Half the time after I say anything, Ilsa adds, “…she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.” Another popular one is “…she said pointedly.” I feel like I’m a bit player in the novel playing out in their warped little minds, she wrote pointedly.
And I would like to state, for the record, that my voice does not “drip with sarcasm.” I have a dry sense of sarcasm.
If it’s at all possible, I will save all their writings for their future selves to laugh at. Because I foresee a lot of melodramatic suffering followed by snide sideline comments in their future.
I leave you with this moment: Elliot is sitting next to me on the couch, and he showed me the back of his book. “An exciting tale which is sure to leave readers clamoring for more,” he read, then chanted, “I want more! I want more!”
That’s how I feel right now.
16 comments
January 8, 2008 at 10:53 pm
marie
I don’t know about KIDS, because I don’t have any, but my HEAD adds “she said” everytime I say anything, and it’s very annoying in there as well. But it’s done that my whole life, that I can remember, so I chalk it up to reading too many books.
By the way, love your blog, have been reading it for a while (no idea how I got here…), and it gave me a great deal of hope that I could survive Mauritania when it looked like I might be doing a three month stint there last year (wound up going to Sudan – sort of wish it had been Mauritania!). And it’s even more fun to read now that I’ve ended up in your city here in the US and i know what you are talking about in town (almost more fun – I’m partial to Africa, especially when i can’t be there 🙂
January 9, 2008 at 12:13 am
Kris
I must admit, Ken and I are both guilty of doing the “she said” thing.
I hate to tell you but it sounds like your kids have definitely gotten their wit from their dad’s side of the family. 🙂
And I could soooo hear Elliot in my mind saying “I want more! I want more!”
I can also perfectly picture Ilsa with her little post-script commentary.
And just think – they’re still only 10 and 12! 🙂
January 9, 2008 at 12:21 am
planetnomad
Kris: phht!! (Imagine sticking out tongue here) You forget that it was I who was both snide and melodramatic AT THE SAME TIME in Jr Hi. You can’t claim all the fun for your genetic side. Besides, I kicked your side’s butt–out of 3 kids, TWO look like me! 🙂 So there!
Geez…I really have been spending too much time with them. I’m starting to talk like them now.
PS to others: Kris is Donn’s sister, in case you hadn’t figured that out. We like to spar in public.
January 9, 2008 at 4:30 am
Maria
I am so happy you wrote this! My four year old constantly says “she said”, or “she screamed”, or “she RAN out of the room”. She does it particularly when she’s being emotional, which is quite hilarious as the narration is always sotto voce (“NOOOOOO! You’re making me do something I HATE!!!…she said, running from the room and slamming the door”).
I was worried it was a sign of incipient illness of some kind…
January 9, 2008 at 9:52 am
Wacky Mommy
“I feel like I’m a bit player in the novel playing out in their warped little minds, she wrote pointedly.”
heh heh heh heh to infinity and beyond. My son gave a necklace to my daughter the other day and told her, It’s from your mother. She loved you very much. She died on the Titanic. Then they burst into “it was sad/ when the great ship went down/ to the bottom of the sea/ husbands and wives/ little bitty children lost their lives…” I mean, I’d rather be dripping with sarcasm than dead, y’know?
When I was at the bank yesterday, writing the date, I made sure to let the teller know it was the King’s birthday. Just in case she wasn’t aware. She was about as excited as you are.
Let them each take a friend and go to the Rice Rock Museum, they can do a birthday treasure hunt. Everyone will loooooooooooove it. Ten bucks per kid. http://www.ricenwmuseum.org/ You have to bring your own cake, though.
All for now, I have important work to do, she said pointedly.
January 9, 2008 at 9:53 am
Wacky Mommy
“That’s what she said.”
— Michael Scott, The Office
January 9, 2008 at 11:39 am
Jeanne A
We were driving on the Thurway back from Christmas—I say we were driving, but really it was the teen with the driver’s permit. The car made a sudden jerk. While trying to remain calm and breathe— the non-driving teen said, “What was that?”
I hear driving teen say, “Note to self: Don’t try to crack back when driving.”
January 9, 2008 at 6:01 pm
ShackelMom
Well, I really like your kids! They sound like they are fun, interesting, well read (with the corresponding good vocabulary) and blessed with a droll sense of humor. It also sounds like they love to play their mom to see just how far they can go before she does or says something really interesting, because she too is creative and articulate. You can all make clever comments in several languages! I am guessing that with a bit of snide melodrama being a socially acceptable form of self expression, it won’t show up in the diaries…
January 9, 2008 at 7:52 pm
Kris
Well Beth……. I might point out to you that if you look at the pictures on my parents wall, Ilsa looks A LOT like I did at that age, I just have darker hair. 😀
Even Ilsa pointed it out! 😀
But I must say, as much as it galls me to lose an opportunity to mock and harass my brother, I’ve got to take up for him on this one. Think about it – your father in law? Extremely sarcastic. Your (other) sister in law? Everyone says she’s just like her father. Your brilliant, wonderful, amazing sister in law? (That would be me) Well, I’ve been known to be a little bit sarcastic.
But it’s OK. We’ll allow you your little fantasies over there. 😉
SO NYAH back! 😀
January 10, 2008 at 12:43 am
Linda
Aren’t kids funny? I wrote down many things my children said as they were growing up-so entertaining. Mine never said things as writers with he said, etc., but they came out with either the nuttiest or cutest things. The mind is an amazing thing.
January 10, 2008 at 6:22 am
Jeana
Don’t forget elevensies. I believe they’re right between second breakfast and lunch.
January 10, 2008 at 6:59 am
Veronica Mitchell
I would be very tempted to say they can eat all the meals they can cook.
January 10, 2008 at 11:13 am
gretchen from lifenut
Your kids are so funny—and obviously very bright.
So far, the diary pages I’ve posted at my blog are from elementary school. The most recent is from when I was a fourth grader.
I burned my high school/college diary. I wish I hadn’t, but it’s done.
January 10, 2008 at 1:12 pm
Mr. Mccoy
I have a footlocker full of my old journals…I looked back at them once and just cringed and quickly locked them back up. I fantasize about throwing the whole trunk off of a cliff or into the deepest part of the sea. But I suppose the only reason I continue to hold on to them is that I am hoping to use them as a resource to remember how much I hated my parents or wanted to be skinny or who else I had a crush on once my daughter is a teenager. Then I will throw that footlocker overboard.
January 13, 2008 at 5:10 pm
Carrie
Ohhh, journals and diaries. . .I have them dating back to 6th grade, up to present. There are certainly a few in there i would like to burn, and those are the ones I haven’t had the courage to look in yet! My journals from Africa, however, are priceless to me. . . I will definitely keep them. And of course, I was never EVER melodramatic. . .
January 17, 2008 at 7:21 pm
suburbancorrespondent
Your kids obviously read a lot.
And I am a devotee of making sure my children have plenty of therapy-fodder.