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Pride, Pleasure, Peeved

There have been times I’ve found myself in the midst of a group of people chatting, and suddenly start feeling “less-than”.  The conversation has turned to our kids.  And so starts the boasting session – as I like to call it:  My daughter graduated magna cum laude at Hoity-Toity U in blah-blah, my son was seen by a scout and now two universities are fighting over him.  My child’s work ended up in the hands of a guru of Doohicky and is now working for her.  Straight-A student. Valedictorian.  Winner of scholarship.  It becomes extremely difficult to not feel the pressure to “keep up with the Joneses” and try to show off my own kids’ exploits.  Except, there are none to mention.  What?  Do I not think my children are as good as theirs?  How can I even think that thought?  Then I feel like a total shit.  How dare I compare my kids to others?  I try not to do it with my own self and here I am doing it to them?  Not that they know this whole discourse is going on, thankfully.

After I’ve done chastising myself, I stop and think about the various good (and sometimes bad) things the boys have done so far… I know deep, sometimes DEEP down that they are good people.  They sometimes work hard, sometimes not so much.  They succeed at some things, and others, not so much.  They make me happy, they piss me off.  They do what I ask when I ask, I need to nag.  You know, like most humans/beasts borne of our loins.  We can’t always be on point all the time and can’t expect them to be either.  I know I sure as hell can’t.

So today, I am going to show off my son, Iain. (Total cheat… taken tonight instead of Saturday 😉 )

He’s a funny one, that one.  He is so like me at times, it’s scary.  Then, at other times, he is very much his father – on a lot of good points – sadly, not the neatness part.  That he gets from me.  But, with all that he’s inherited from his folks, he is also very much his own man.  He’ll spend hours watching videos, learning about a subject.  From exotic animals (knew all about the critters brought to my nephew’s birthday eons ago), to anything Bear Grylls, to guns (it must be a guy thing), to all sorts of things Russian.  Lately, he’s been alternating between watching Gordon Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares (hah!) and Cook with Boris.  How do I even know this?  Because sometimes he watches them while he snacks and he’ll even share by casting an episode on the TV.  Of course, once the snack is over, he just leaves me hanging.  Oh well, I’ll take each little moment as it comes.  He’s cheap in doling out “special Mom-Time…”

First he introduces me to some of his Russian – um – music on our way back from Andre’s last February.  He was sleeping in the car on our way home – felt like I was driving his dad home, back in the day – when he suddenly woke up and decided to connect his phone to my car, practically taking my hearing.

Then we have friggen vodka tasting sessions…. The boy spends a fortune on vodka.  He likes to sample all sorts.

This past Saturday, while François and I were out with co-workers, he decided to try his hand and Chebureki.  Why?  Because he watched this video.

Wow.  My kitchen. Wow.   Such a mess.  He had just finished frying his batch up and was eating his very first one when we arrived.  He shared with us.  Oh my.  Delicious!

But my kitchen. Wow.  Mess?  Doesn’t even begin to cover it.  Oy!  That said.  How proud am I of this man-child of mine who made the dough, prepared the filling, fried the chebureki…

I look at him, then at the kitchen, and back to him and he says “later” as he leaves for his room.  I decide to retire to MY room and leave him to it.  I hear banging around at 11 p.m.  Then nothing.  Hmmm.

I wake up the next morning.  Mess is still there.  I basically bust a gasket.  I bang on Iain’s door and get the response “There’s no more dish soap.”

François decides to go to the store to buy some because he sees that I am fit to be tied and he’s unhappy if I’m unhappy.  He is truly a nice guy.

When François returns from the store, Iain comes down, declaring he was going out to go “get stuff”.  I look at François and tell him that under no circumstances is he to touch the dishes.  Bloody hell.  I am NOT touching them either.  I loathe to wake up to a mess like this and I want to make us a pot of coffee.  I pile the mess into some semblance of order and leave the mess for Iain.

Said son returns and proceeds to clean up the kitchen.

It’s amazing how one can go from super proud and pleased to peeved beyond belief.

Sigh.

 

 

 

 

42 thoughts on “Pride, Pleasure, Peeved

  1. Dear Dale,

    How well I related to this one. Vodka? To me it all tastes like kerosene although it’s great for curing Gravlax. 😉 I enjoyed this one and am glad Iain finally cleaned up his mess. I raise my cuppa to you. L’chaim and good morning.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Rochelle,

      Quite frankly, after the yearly vodka-shot-laden nights at Andre’s for his birthday, they all taste like rubbing alcohol to me!

      So very glad you did, my friend! Nostrovia! And good morning to you!

      Lotsa love,

      Dale

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Dale, I loved this missive. Donn and I have no children so I learn about them vicariously through others. I can feel the anger and hear a sigh of relief. Obviously, you’ve raised a delightful man-child, no different than most. And I’ll bet when he gives you a kiss on the cheek, your heart melts. Maybe he should come live at our house on Mondays. I’m taking a class on Russian folklore that is just wonderful!

    Liked by 1 person

    • If this one were to give me a kiss on the cheek, I think I’d pass out! Then my heart would melt into a puddle, no doubt.
      He would love it! He’s loved things Russian since he was in elementary school…

      Like

  3. My son was a fairly responsible kid. My daughter was a shrewish harpy with an attitude problem. She still is sometimes. :o) Those teen years were harrowing, but I’ve since become a huge fan of her. I’m sure Iain will become YOUR hero in a few years. :o)

    Liked by 1 person

    • They each – my boys – have their moments. They’ve both made me crazy mad and crazy proud. I’m sure they will both become fabulous men… they’re already on their way….

      Like

  4. Q,

    They are similar to an empanadita . . and MAN, do these look scrumptious! He did one hell of a job, and from scratch no less. That’s impressive. As for the mess he left behind, I guess filing such a thing under “artistic license” ain’t gonna pass muster with mama, huh?

    And that video . . I didn’t watch the whole thing. Didn’t need to. THE most important part as far as yours truly is concerned, is to finish the bottle so’s it can be used as a rolling pin. Talk about re-purposing!

    Peace and Chebureki

    Liked by 1 person

    • B,
      I was telling Iain that the Chebureki is like the Mexican empanada or the Italian Calzone or… yanno… each culture has their version of something similar!
      And no. It did NOT pass muster with mama.

      That video is hilarious. And the music at the end? Same shit Iain made me listen to on our way home… oy! As for the Vodka bottles… there are more than one that can be re-purposed. I teased him last night because he and his two friends were making more and he was using a rolling pin. What kind of Russian you be (say with heavy Russian accent, please)

      Nostrovia and Chebureki!

      Liked by 1 person

      • When I was spending a great deal of time in Chicago back in the day, my lady friend lived across the street from some Russian peeps. They were a blast, literally speaking. I think they must have been involved in some shady business not that there’s anything wrong with that, lol.
        One day, I was chatting it up with the patriarch of this (crime) family and he was like, “You guys want to come over? My family having party tonight. We make party. We make good party!” That became a thing with us, whenever we went out after that. “Hey, let’s go make party!”

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh my goodness, I love your honesty. It is so refreshing. Those people who make us feel “less” always leave out the bad bits. Life is full of them. How is it that our kids can be equal parts joy and frustration?! Good on Iain! My daughter loves to cook AND leave a mess, it’s yummy but annoying. =)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Brenda. I am nothing but honest – maybe too much some times! That said. Exactly my point. Heaven forbid you tell us any of the bad things your kids have done. None of them are pure angels!
      And it’s great that your daughter loves to cook. It’s a great skill to have – and I bet you she miraculously cleans up when it’s her OWN place one day…

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Couldn’t bear to watch the video to the end; guess I’m too old. And yes, just like you, I DID survive the mess, the unruliness, the non obedience and the rest of it, and now said son is 40 and manages his life just BEAUTIFULLY….. have faith, and be generous. Courage; it will be alright!

    Liked by 1 person

    • LOL! It didn’t need a full watch! Things are actually quite a bit better but there are still gaps.
      I have Faith! And resilience to spare.

      Like

  7. I loved this line, “My child’s work ended up in the hands of a guru of Doohicky and is now working for her” a lot more than the person from whose mouth it came. I gave up on keeping up with the Joneses … Cheers!

    Liked by 1 person

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