LJIdol entry for week #9: Counterintuitive
My entry in 
therealljidol writing contest. Topic #9: Counterintuitive.
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I try to be a good daughter, I really do, and most times I succeed. I'm usually very caring and attentive to the needs of my elderly parents. My dad is 90, and my mom will turn 80 this year; they're both still pretty active and sharp. I'm thankful to have them close by and try to remember that our days together are numbered. I'm pretty good at keeping things in proper perspective. But sometimes...
Christmas afternoon I was bustling about the kitchen preparing the holiday meal. My folks had just arrived and were settling in around the table to chit-chat and my husband was fixing their drinks. Out of the blue, my mom turns to my husband and says, "We got this letter in the mail from our investment broker and I don't understand it. I'm wondering if you could take a look - "
Allow me to interject here: I do their taxes and help them with all their financial stuff. I was, after all, an accountant for years. And before that, a banker. I do all the financial stuff for my own family, too, because I'm good at it. That makes sense, right? And my husband, well, he's exceptionally good at what he does, but his strengths and skills do not lie in the financial realm.
I pull the thermometer out of the tenderloin and turn to face her. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"What?" she asks back, jarred by the bluntness of my question.
"Why are you asking him to look at something financial for you?"
"I don't know," my mom stammers, "I just thought..."
"What? You just thought what? Why would you ask HIM to look at something when I'm the one who handles all that stuff for you?"
Even my husband chimes in. "I could take a look and tell you if the letter is well written; I could proof read it for you, check their spelling and punctuation..." his voice is playful as he tries to lighten the mood of the moment.
We all kind of laugh and subject is dropped. I think I reacted so strongly because in addition to being the family financier, I'm also a very logical-thinking person. What she said didn't make any sense and I just, well - it made me a little crazy, that's all.
Talk turns to how wonderful it was to have Christmas fall on a Sunday this year. My husband mentions that it's especially nice for him because his office is closed on Monday when there's a Sunday holiday.
"Yes," my mom adds, "We were talking about it at church this morning. Christmas falls on a Sunday every seven years."
"That's not possible," I respond matter-of-factly. Why? Why did I need to say that after we'd just had a bit of an "exchange" about the stupid financial letter?
"Yes it is, they said so at church this morning!" She's pretty emphatic about it and her eyebrows rise to indicates she's going to stand her ground on this one.
"Think about it, Mom," I try to explain. "Any given date will advance one day of the week each year - until you hit a leap year. Then it jumps ahead two...so there's no way Christmas can fall on a Sunday every seven years."
Suddenly we're fully entrenched in a ridiculous discussion. I'm sure they don't believe me and my dad half-jokingly asks why I'm picking on my mother and I know I should just drop it, but I have to prove my point and the next minute I'm on the laptop, googling, "How often does Christmas fall on a Sunday" and reading off dates that are obviously NOT seven years apart.
A few days later, I volunteer to drive them to the funeral home for a wake. My mom is increasingly uncomfortable driving at night, and my dad simply can't, so they're very appreciative. I pick up my dad's sister, too, and off we go. As I listen to the three of them talk, I get a glimpse into a sliver of their lives and mindset: The traffic - the traffic! It's so busy, there are cars everywhere! And we have to look out for deer - they leave you no time to react! The turnoff - we need to watch - are you watching? It's right after the red picket fence! Hope you don't take that one road, it's so hard to see, the lights aren't very good on it at all...
I know where we are and where we're going because we're driving around my neighborhood. I can read the street signs and have no need to watch for fences. The traffic isn't anything noteworthy. I want to tell them to relax, that I'm not intimidated, or lost, or overwhelmed, but I don't. I can't.
At the funeral home, at least three people mention to my dad that nearly every one of his peers has died."You're it," they say, "You're about the last one left..." and I want to throttle them all; as if my dad doesn't realize he's 90 years old.
The ride home is very quiet. I reflect on the conversations of the evening and of Christmas day, and I realize that in spite of their best efforts, my parents aren't really going to change, nor should I expect them to. It must feel kind of scary when all around you, life is moving very quickly and people are oblivious to your slowing pace. I need to remember this the next time the urge to "update their database" tries to overwhelm me.
therealljidol writing contest. Topic #9: Counterintuitive.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I try to be a good daughter, I really do, and most times I succeed. I'm usually very caring and attentive to the needs of my elderly parents. My dad is 90, and my mom will turn 80 this year; they're both still pretty active and sharp. I'm thankful to have them close by and try to remember that our days together are numbered. I'm pretty good at keeping things in proper perspective. But sometimes...
Christmas afternoon I was bustling about the kitchen preparing the holiday meal. My folks had just arrived and were settling in around the table to chit-chat and my husband was fixing their drinks. Out of the blue, my mom turns to my husband and says, "We got this letter in the mail from our investment broker and I don't understand it. I'm wondering if you could take a look - "
Allow me to interject here: I do their taxes and help them with all their financial stuff. I was, after all, an accountant for years. And before that, a banker. I do all the financial stuff for my own family, too, because I'm good at it. That makes sense, right? And my husband, well, he's exceptionally good at what he does, but his strengths and skills do not lie in the financial realm.
I pull the thermometer out of the tenderloin and turn to face her. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"What?" she asks back, jarred by the bluntness of my question.
"Why are you asking him to look at something financial for you?"
"I don't know," my mom stammers, "I just thought..."
"What? You just thought what? Why would you ask HIM to look at something when I'm the one who handles all that stuff for you?"
Even my husband chimes in. "I could take a look and tell you if the letter is well written; I could proof read it for you, check their spelling and punctuation..." his voice is playful as he tries to lighten the mood of the moment.
We all kind of laugh and subject is dropped. I think I reacted so strongly because in addition to being the family financier, I'm also a very logical-thinking person. What she said didn't make any sense and I just, well - it made me a little crazy, that's all.
Talk turns to how wonderful it was to have Christmas fall on a Sunday this year. My husband mentions that it's especially nice for him because his office is closed on Monday when there's a Sunday holiday.
"Yes," my mom adds, "We were talking about it at church this morning. Christmas falls on a Sunday every seven years."
"That's not possible," I respond matter-of-factly. Why? Why did I need to say that after we'd just had a bit of an "exchange" about the stupid financial letter?
"Yes it is, they said so at church this morning!" She's pretty emphatic about it and her eyebrows rise to indicates she's going to stand her ground on this one.
"Think about it, Mom," I try to explain. "Any given date will advance one day of the week each year - until you hit a leap year. Then it jumps ahead two...so there's no way Christmas can fall on a Sunday every seven years."
Suddenly we're fully entrenched in a ridiculous discussion. I'm sure they don't believe me and my dad half-jokingly asks why I'm picking on my mother and I know I should just drop it, but I have to prove my point and the next minute I'm on the laptop, googling, "How often does Christmas fall on a Sunday" and reading off dates that are obviously NOT seven years apart.
A few days later, I volunteer to drive them to the funeral home for a wake. My mom is increasingly uncomfortable driving at night, and my dad simply can't, so they're very appreciative. I pick up my dad's sister, too, and off we go. As I listen to the three of them talk, I get a glimpse into a sliver of their lives and mindset: The traffic - the traffic! It's so busy, there are cars everywhere! And we have to look out for deer - they leave you no time to react! The turnoff - we need to watch - are you watching? It's right after the red picket fence! Hope you don't take that one road, it's so hard to see, the lights aren't very good on it at all...
I know where we are and where we're going because we're driving around my neighborhood. I can read the street signs and have no need to watch for fences. The traffic isn't anything noteworthy. I want to tell them to relax, that I'm not intimidated, or lost, or overwhelmed, but I don't. I can't.
At the funeral home, at least three people mention to my dad that nearly every one of his peers has died."You're it," they say, "You're about the last one left..." and I want to throttle them all; as if my dad doesn't realize he's 90 years old.
The ride home is very quiet. I reflect on the conversations of the evening and of Christmas day, and I realize that in spite of their best efforts, my parents aren't really going to change, nor should I expect them to. It must feel kind of scary when all around you, life is moving very quickly and people are oblivious to your slowing pace. I need to remember this the next time the urge to "update their database" tries to overwhelm me.