Here is a short story in honor of one of my 100 (literally) sisters. Ok, that's a lie, I have 5. No wait, WE are 5 girls total so I have... 4 sisters. !MATH!
But as an appetizer to this story:
I love Sundays after church. For the most part, whatever family is in town on a Sunday afternoon will eventually make it over to my parents rambling, space-filled home for copious amounts of food, talk, laughter and sitting around the kitchen table. Lots of sitting and eating.
And that's just the adults. And, as adults, we are not the ones who need rambling space (which makes it sound like cattle and tumbleweed are included - which I think is just fun to imagine!). We need all that space for our children. And there are plenty of children in my family. The most recent young crop being a passel of boys that are a puppy pile of elbows, dirt clouds and wrestling. They are precious. As long as there is rambling space for them to tumble within. Downstairs.
So, here you have it, Sister (whom I will not name because I'm not 100% sure how you feel about internet privacy).
My sister, her husband and I had, oddly enough, moved away from the table to sit in the living room and stretch our legs and pregnant bellies on the couches (my sister and I, not the husband, though its fun to imagine!).
(OH! and sorry to break the No Back To Back Parenthesis rule, like I'm not already murdering parenthesis rules, but this is too wild. 3 of the 5 sisters are pregnant! Its the 3 youngest which isn't too weird except that there are 10 years between the 3 of us. We're having fun with it but its still pretty wild. All due within 5 months of each other.)
We were letting our food digest and swapping the more interesting stories from the week. And I don't know if we're just all a bit dramatic or if its simply a numbers game but there is ALWAYS something going on, some story to tell, some news to brief everyone on. I LOVE MY BIG FAMILY!
Today we were sharing the moments that had just happened in the car on the way that warranted explicit threats of discipline once we arrived at Mimi and Poppy's. Our car had experienced some roughhousing that had gone too far and Daddy had to walk 2 of them into a "private space" right away to "emphasize the point" about personal respect, as it were. And she shared that there had been a Daddy led walk of shame from her car as well, with the infraction being more along the lines of sass and disrespect directed toward Mommy, which Daddy promptly took it upon himself to remedy.
I instantly remembered a vivid memory from my childhood when I had disrespected my mom in front of my dad. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the negative influences of TV and bad company corrupting my good morals. I know it wasn't the Smurfs or HeMan because we weren't allowed to watch that stuff. But it could have been something I picked up from a Sweet Valley High book I read at a friend's house. One of those twins was trouble!
I don't even remember what I said. But my dad turned to me and said:
"Don't ever talk to my wife like that again."
You know in those movies when there's this tunneling effect and everything gets farther away? If I knew that was a visual option, I would have embedded that bit of flair to my memory to forever be recalled. By his simple choice of words, I was instantly a stranger on the outside of the family; a smart-mouthed punk dishonoring the good name of his (who was much bigger than me) wife.
Upside: I'm a tender little rule follower and that was all it took to reinforce to me that before I came into this world and long after I move out, they will still be like a formidable tag team wrestling duo. And they will not take my sass.
And also, it makes a great story and its fun to imagine!