Tag Archives: cowards

Things are Not as They Appear.

This Sunday I had myself a true Judas Iscariot moment.

I denied knowing my own children at the grocery store.

Then I stopped after reading that last line and asked myself  “Hey girl who spent her whole life chained to a pew in parochial school! WHO was it now that denied Jesus three times?” “Why YES you moron that would be Peter.”

Judas sounds so much more theatrical though, so I’m keeping it even thought it is not historically accurate.

While waiting patiently in the checkout line my two boys began to act a little squirrely.

They were redirected to the front of the store near the exits brought there by my beleaguered mother who was lacking her usual sharp tongue and was hanging there like a limp dishrag due to a debilitating migraine.

 This means that the boys were running in circles, screaming about having a girlfriend, punching each other, jumping off the bench my mother was passing out on, smashing the video machine with the dollar rentals and accosting the automatic lotto dispenser.

Two über uptight couples with pursed thin lips were starting to shake their heads in disbelief and exchanging disgusted looks with each other at the volume and sheer audacity of the two unruly boys and their comatose caretaker.

“So rude and disrespectful” noted one.

“Why isn’t she doing anything to control them?” asked the other.

Then Il Duce let loose with a rank profanity followed by a roaring hysterical cackle and I watched them gasp with horror.

They were truly disgusted.

“CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!” they croaked, looking at me.

I thought for a moment. There were thousands of ways I could go here but I opted for betrayal.

“I know!” I commiserated, as I lugged the rest of my fresh produce onto the belt.

I didn’t feel nearly as bad as I know I should have but it was just so much easier to cut and run regarding knowing this lot than to try to explain them to someone who wouldn’t care.

After scooping my mother up off the bench and driving her back home so she could suffer her mind exploding agony alone on her couch I spoke briefly to the boys about minding their behavior in public. But my pleas fell on deaf ears as they were both fast asleep in the back.



Filed under 1, adversity, am I doing anything right?, bad manners, bad parenting, being shallow and crass, boys with serious attitude, buffoonery, can I have a normal day, cowards, crazy ramblings, disasters, discipline, giving up, I complain too much, I don't know how to end a blog post, i don't like mondays, i love kids, I REALLY DO, I'm not as effective in a bad situation as I thought I would be, kids, kids and parenting, kids that like cursewords, random observations

Pre Cana Insane

Try harder. Your lack of enthusiasm for the program is vexing me.

Once, way back when we tried to always do the right thing, my husband and I had a crazy idea.  He would make an attempt to transition from his godless existence straight into the loving arms of Catholicism before our wedding.  

Since we were getting hitched in a Catholic church in New York  followed immediately by a kick ass reception in one of the biggest wedding factory banquet halls in New jersey (you should have seen the fucking food) we figured this was the way to go.  

Looking back now I know this was neither a good idea nor a rational one. As a matter of fact it may have been the worst idea in a decision-making history littered with disasters.  

I am a garden variety dirt bag Catholic. I guess a nice way to say that is a “lapsed” one. I endured the ruler smacks, the public humiliation and watched my little knee sock wearing friends suffer the same fate.  One of my most vivid memories is of being dragged down the hallway by my left ear trying to keep up with the nun with the Prefontaine sprint. Good times kids!  

Since there was no chance my Roman Catholic crucifix wearing, god fearing mother was going to let me be married on a hedonistic beach by a high priest of funk with a bone in his hair and a shrunken head around his neck, my dream of a bohemian wedding was down the shitter.  

Now the traditional route seemed the way to go.  

We visited the priest, completed some paperwork and got our catholic conversion kit  for savages so we could start my husband down the road to redemption and salvation. Next came the revelation that we would be required to voluntarily commit ourselves to some sort of crazy cult weekend  where we would be forced to live apart, listen to crackpots lecture, be banned from drinking and carousing late at night and made to talk about our fucking feelings. I found myself secretly wondering if they had co-ed dorms for the already fallen in the group since I had no intention of pretending we hadn’t been shacked up for the better part of six years.  

It was called something like Catholic Engaged Encounter and we would need to go.  

My husband’s level-headed nature prevailed and we sent the reservation form in while I secretly hoped they’d be overbooked and give us a pass.  

No such luck.  

Doomsday arrived and we made our way to this retreat like setting hoping for the best but braced for the worst.  

I listened to a fruitloop and her equally batty husband talk about the joys of twenty thousand children flying out of your vag and how you have to make time for date night no matter what! They let their crazy kids run all over the room filled with terrified engaged couples who wanted to bat them away with a stick and run home.  

We also spent time learing the rhythm method of birth control which was fucking useless since I’d been on the kick ass birth control pill for fifteen years. Sorry Catholic lady, reading the calendar combined with pull and pray does not a full proof method make.  

They kept sending us upstairs separately to write in our “journals” about our feelings for one another. My future husband at least made a valiant attempt to communicate while I drew doodles of us escaping and made snarky insulting comments about our relationship.  

When bedtime came I broke the number one rule when I found out my fiance’s roommate had never shown up. I snuck down the hall like a dirty school girl  and stayed there all evening.  Scandalous. 

Finally, we had both endured enough. Mid way through the second day we tip toed out, jumped in our car and took off.  

We ran away from Pre Cana.  

No one noticed.  

My husband never made the full transition to god fearing guilt ridden catholic but we managed to get hitched inside the church without the floor opening up and swallowing us both.   

 Still, I wonder about these life affirming stories I always hear about the transformation couples undergo during these Pre Cana events. How is that possible? I began imagining elaborate escape scenarios from the moment I arrived until I could no longer see the place in the rear view mirror.  

We learned a valuable lesson that day. Events like these are never a good idea, they bring out the worst in both of us. While surrounded by others  having a genuine experience we gave ourselves intense headaches from the amount of eye rolling and brow furrowing we were doing.  Super procreation catholic lady really wanted us to have twenty kids and she was telling us from her heart exactly how to do it but all we had for her was a big serving of disdain.  

Her = good  

Us = bad  

 So looking back I feel like maybe we were a little cowardly and out of sorts so our natural reaction was to flee. The enthusiastic group was better off without us and since we had contributed nothing of value during the sessions we were not missed. 

I have a sneaking suspicion that we continue to inspire sighs of relief every time we half heartedly bail on events like this but it’s just as well. No one needs a couple of nefarious skeptics habitually bringing the group down.


Filed under 1, cowards, disasters, mean, pre cana, running away, why we don't get a lot of invites