Rick: "You know, it's not easy, being a dad."
Alex: "Yeah, but you're doing it really well."
--Brendan Fraser and Freddie Boath in The Mummy Returns
Frank: [on parenting] It's like your Aunt Edna's ass. It goes on forever and it's just as frightening.
--Jason Robarbs in Parenthood
The woman that sits next to me has three kids home alone all summer for the second time. Last summer, when school was released for the summer, things were new and exciting and even nerve-wracking. Will they be safe by themselves? Will they remember not to open the door to strangers? Will they convincingly tell strangers on the phone that “Mom’s in the shower so you’ll have to call back later”? This summer the new has worn off. They have effectively proven that any accidents or mishaps that occur will be their own faults. The new question is who will kill them first: themselves or their mother. Mom no longer even believes that anyone would want her kids, pains that they are. Constant phone calls home confirm this to me. “Have you done your chores? You both need to be doing that. It’s not just YOUR job, it’s her chore too.” I’m thisclose to marching over to her house on my lunch break to supervise their chores, just to give their mother a rest.
Secretly though, I think she enjoys it. She is always deliciously angry. Michaela is currently grounded from using the telephone, so Mom’s latest project is testing her obedience by dialing home several times a day. I could set my watch to the time Mom picks up the phone and starts dialing home. Every hour, on the hour. If there is no answer at home, there is a satisfied SLAM as the receiver goes down. If Michaela answers, Mom always sounds suspiciously pleased about having to be angry. “What are you doing answering the phone?” she growls. “You’re grounded from the phone!” This phone call also ends with an angry SLAM, but this one is not as satisfied. My favorite part about every phone call is that, no matter the reason for the call (a lecture, a reminder, or just a chance to check in) she never, ever hangs up without first giving a grudging, “Love-you-bye.” The three words run together to form a single thought, “loveyoubye” and sometimes there are such fierce undertones I almost laugh, as the expression in the words does not reflect the meaning of the words.
Usually an exasperated sigh follows the slamming with the unsolicited advice, “Don’t ever have any kids.” As I never know if she’s talking out loud or to me, I give a noncommittal laugh and occasionally make eye contact or generic comments like, “Aah, to be 14 again,” or “Rough day?” This pattern seems to fit both of us just fine.
