It’s not a contest, but if it were, I have to say, my house guesting is far superior to that of L’il Sis and Crazy D.
In fact, just last night this was made all the more obvious as we were chatting after dinner.
Crazy D had just come back from some rather heroic negotiations with Rogers, bringers of internet phone and cable to The Mom’s house, and he had not only made the internet better and stronger, he had also not had to kill anyone. This alone is a feat of extreme patience.
L’il Sis had accompanied him and bore witness to most of the transaction. She then mentioned that together the two of them had been incredibly thoughtful and had purchased the dogs knuckle bones to eat during dinner so that we could have something approaching a peaceful tea time.
Both looked at The Mom awaiting the praise they rightfully deserved. And she did praise them, but then I started in picking on her and she dissolved into a fit of laughter and all other good deeds were forgotten as I launched into a list of things she was doing to drive me crazy in the funniest voices I could muster.
I got the Death Stare form L’il Sis, her dog, and Crazy D.
“I’ll have you know that I have just brought us the internet,” Crazy D said, as though he had single-handedly reinvented the wheel and fire. Which, in some ways, he did. If you are unfamiliar with Rogers in Canada, be thankful. They make BT look like a bunch of over-performing do-gooders.
“Yes you did,” The Mom said. “Thank you.”
“I cleared out the fridge and have organised everything by size,” L’il Sis piped up. “And we got knucklebones.”
“Lovely, dear, thank you very much,” The Mom said even though she wasn’t entirely sure that the fridge needed that level of organisation.
“I’ve done sweet bugger all,” I announced proudly. “I’ve gone swimming, done some writing, and made sure nobody took a dump in the kitchen.”
The Mom burst into laughter. More death stares from everyone else.
Which leads me to the conclusion that L’il Sis and crazy D have inaccurately sussed the situation. The Mom cares not for usefullness, or industry in a practical sense. She wants to be entertained. Everything else she can either do herself, do badly herself, or hire someone to do. Yes, she does prefer it if one of her off-spring can shovel the driveway when it snows, or do the hoovering around the house, before or after one of the dogs has disgraced his or her self. But when it boils right down to it, she’d much prefer to be amused. I don’t mean to suggest that my siblings ought to, oh, I dunno, write out a script and practice it during the day, because they’re busy people and during my tenure here I was not at all busy. But still… it’s certainly an idea.
And one I do believe The Mom would be pleased with.
She would also be keen to have her children eat normal, regular food, at normal, regular hours, not bring home all their worldy possessions over the course of several months, secretly bringing them inside when she’s out or otherwise occupied, and that they would go to the pool with her in summer, but The Mom is a realist at heart. She knows they can be entertaining, it’s how they were raised.