Futures and Frosting

“I remember that afternoon. The police questioned us for two hours so they could make sure we weren’t harboring a criminal,” my mother states. “That was such a long, boring day.”

“No, don’t worry about me. I was totally fine,” I deadpan.

“Oh quit your bitchin’. It wasn’t that bad. You’re still alive, aren’t you?” my dad asks. “And don’t lie, Rachel. They only questioned us for about thirty seconds. Then you asked them if they wanted a joint and all was forgotten. Cops were way more fun back then,” he says to the rest of the table.

I turn towards Carter. “Never, ever ask me again why I am the way I am. NEVER. AGAIN,” I whisper.

“I did walk in on her playing with her Barbie’s one time, and she had them all undressed, humping each other. It was some weird sex circle, and Ken was sitting in the middle just watching them, fully dressed. I wanted to light some incense and set the mood for her, but then I saw she had one of the horses in the circle of sex and it just got disturbing at that point. I never knew Barbie was into bestiality,” my mother states solemnly.

I lean forward and start banging my head softly on the table.

“Nice! Getting freaky with the Barbie dolls. I like it,” Drew exclaims.

“I think in honor of this family dinner, we need to remember the best part about our holiday dinners, Rachel,” my dad tells her with a gleam in his eye. “Ceiling fan baseball.”

My parents start laughing as they remember dinners of the past, and I just continue to bang my head harder.

This was supposed to be a nice, peaceful dinner.

“Oh my God! I remember ceiling fan baseball from high school!” Liz says excitedly. “Except didn’t we play it with tater tots a few times?”

“Yes, we’ve been known to make substitutions,” my mother states.

“Okay, what the hell is ceiling fan baseball? It’s not what I think it is, right?” Drew asks as he looks back and forth between my parents. They each look at me expectantly. Liz is practically bouncing up and down in her chair in excitement.

Oh what the hell.

I roll my eyes and drain my glass of wine in one gulp, slamming it back to the table with a thunk.

“Alright, fine. Carter, grab the wooden cutting board with the handle. Liz, put all the extra rolls on the stove into a basket. Jim, turn the ceiling fan on low and Drew, move the table to the side.”

Everyone stares at me with their mouths open for exactly three seconds, and then they all jump into action and start gathering supplies.

“I’ll get more booze!” Jenny announces happily.

“I got the mashed potatoes,” my dad states casually.

“What do we need mashed potatoes for?” Carter asks as he walks back into the room with the cutting board, a.k.a “baseball bat”.

“Claire, this man is hot as balls but he’s kind of dumb,” my mother says as she pats Carter’s cheek affectionately. “The mashed potatoes are the catcher’s mitt. Duh.”

11. Mommy!

I think it’s safe to say that my parents will never understand the whirlwind that is Claire and her family. I’m okay with that. It’s not like I’ve ever been that close to them anyway. Their parenting style had always been a bit more standoffish than most. I think it’s one of the main reasons I knew I needed to do right by Claire and Gavin. I never want my son to feel like there is anything even remotely more important to me than him. Don’t get me wrong. My parents are good people. They love me and they have done a good job raising me. They had sent me to the best schools and had high hopes for my future. When I dropped out of college because it bored the shit out of me, they didn’t take it very well. They had wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer and share their country club membership. They like things calm, neat, orderly, and pretentious. They most definitely aren’t ceiling fan baseball-playing people, and they never will be. It had taken them a while to stop trying to fit me into a certain mold and realize they need to just let me make my own choices and live my own life. They had been really excited to find out they were grandparents and I know they will be good at it. On the bright side, at least Gavin will have someone in his life who could teach him how to sit on the board of a company, complain about paying taxes, and hide money from the government. Since he already has people showing him how to swear like a truck driver and throw food at ceiling fans during dinner, I do believe this will make him the most well-rounded human being on the planet.

It takes a lot of explaining and even more wine to get Claire on board with my line of thinking. She wants everyone to like her and considers herself a failure because my parents have only seen her at her worst. When I tell her that after twenty-five years I have yet to impress my parents and therefore she shouldn’t let it get to her, she finally relents and decides against writing an apology note to them in chocolate on their front yard.

After my mother apologizes for showing up unexpectedly, and Drew throws a wild pitch into the fan that results in a dinner roll right to her neck, my parents realize the importance of calling ahead. They do their best to not make faces as they tiptoe around clumps of bread that litter the dining room floor to find an available seat. My father explains he thought he was coming down with a cold but after a short nap, he felt much better so they decided to stop by for dessert. Claire does her best to stick to the original plan of plying them with a bunch of alcohol and sweets to suck up to them, but after thirty minutes of Rachel trying to get my mother to admit she would love to try a threesome some day and goading my father to confess he dropped acid in the sixties, my parents decide it's past their bedtime. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">