So, there's this SUPER hilarious story that certain members of my family absolutely LOVE to tell. Yep. Super cute. Allow me to share this little gem:
A rather largish family (five kids at the time, the "Oops" not due to arrive for another five or six years) left church together on a fine Sunday afternoon, piling into the old white car and settling in. On the drive home, the father and mother of this large brood sat enjoying the tranquility of the Sunday drive, taking in the scenery, reflecting on the spiritual experience they has just enjoyed, wondering at the blessed silence... Wait. The silence?
Brakes screeched as the car careened wildly to the side of the road. My father turned to my mother, their eyes met, and they both screamed, "WHERE'S CATHY?!" After a frantic search of the car-- "Is she hiding in the back?", "Check under the seats!"-- the parents realized the dreadful truth.
Yes. They left their poor, totally defenseless-- and might I add delightful?-- little daughter alone at church. Their middle child. Oh, yes. And the lovely little girl? That would be me.
This is where Dad, who of course is the father in the story, usually adds, you know, in case you somehow missed the point, "Yep. We knew Cathy wasn't in the car... it was TOO QUIET! Bwah ha ha ha! TOO QUIET!! Ha ha ha!"
No, really. I'm laughing on the inside, Dad.
Then multiple family members commence with the knee slapping and hysterical laughter, as I, the butt, sit and remember my 6-year-old self standing in the foyer of the church thinking, "Well, where the hell IS everybody?!"
See? I totally LOVE that story. And I have absolutely no feelings of residual anger towards my parents at ALL. Or self-consciousness about my boisterous nature. Or abandonment issues. Or, you know, self-loathing. None whatsoever. Seriously. SO over it.
Oh! I also thoroughly enjoy the story of the time my best friend's mother Sandy told me that I had "diarrhea of the mouth." I had no idea what this odd little colloquialism meant, being only 8 years old at the time, but it sure sounded disgusting. I was offended. I'm pretty sure I broke out the sneer.
My mother patiently explained to me later that what Sandy meant was that I had just walked into the house and interrupted their grown-up conversation to announce that I got 100% on my spelling test, which probably made Sandy upset, as her daughter was "not the sharpest tool in the shed."
Whatev. Still totally rude.
Oh! Oh! Then there's the story of my fourth grade teacher and the game of musical desks we played, but I'll save that for another day. It's a doozy.
Now, in the interest of full disclosure I must admit I have never actually outgrown this tendency towards talkativeness. Thankfully, I DO have much more control over it than I did as a child. Um, unless you get a little caffeine in my system. Me and Dr. Pepper? Bad news, y'all. BAD NEWS. Just ask TGIM.
(SIDENOTE: This is also why I never drink alcohol. Can you imagine me at parties? *shudder* I am warning you now: Do not ever, under ANY circumstances, loosen me up with liquor, people. You have been warned. That is all.)
To illustrate, here is just a snippet of the "conversation" I had with TGIM after consuming one teensy weensy little caffeinated beverage as we were remodeling our new place on Saturday:
"Oh my gosh, we should totally build a window seat right here, TGIM! See? Right here? With curtains! Doncha think? Doncha? That would be so cute. Oh! And I had the best idea for the colors in the kitchen! Yellow! Do you think yellow? I totally say yellow. With wainscoting. Can you install some wainscoting? Duh. Of course you can! What was it, like ten dollars a panel? I mean ten dollars?! That's nothing! Or crown molding! We could do crown molding! I am totally painting the girls' room pink. Hannah and Alli will LOVE pink. Maybe with green trim. Or a chair rail. Yeah. That would be so cute. Doncha think that would be... Oh my GOSH! I just had the best idea! Let's get some DONUTS! I TOTALLY need a donut! Want a donut? 'Cuz I totally do! TGIM? TGIM?"
Then TGIM got this totally HUNTED look in his eyes, like, "Dear lord, make her STOP!" and I could totally see it, but I just couldn't turn it off because, you know, the caffeine! And the sugar!
"Oh! Freak. Sorry! Am I talking too much? I am totally talking too much, aren't I? Ha ha ha! Talk, talk, talk! That's what I do! Woo! Crazy talking lady! Remember when my mom came to visit? and she drank all that Diet Pepsi on the trip? and she totally came walking into our house talk, talk, talking like crazy?! Blah, blah, blah! That was hilarious! And I was all, 'Oh my gosh, Mom, were you drinking soda?!' and she was all, 'Yes, why? Am I talking too much?' and we were like, "Uh, yeah!' and we all laughed? Because she totally was? Remember, TGIM? Do you? Huh? TGIM? That was hilarious! Ha ha ha!"
Honestly. It's a wonder I haven't been murdered in my sleep.
A point? Oh. Am I supposed to have one of those? Just kidding! The point is, people, I have passed on the talking gene. In a BIG WAY, apparently.
On a drive with Grandma to the neighboring town of Show Low (which is a good 50 miles away from Podunky Small Town, AZ), my youngest kiddo, my Alli-girl, apparently contracted a bad case of diarrhea of the mouth. After a solid half-hour of talk, talk, talking her way through Barbies, outdoor swimming pools, the scenery, the shapes of clouds, Pioneer Day parades, Pokemon, and what she would be buying with her allowance at Walmart, she announced to everybody in the car (Grandma, Aunt Kim, and her Game-Boy engrossed bro and sis), "I'm tired. Everybody be quiet so I can sleep."
She then proceeded to bitterly complain about the noise level in the car for the next ten minutes until they arrived at their destination.
My youngest? She's a keeper.
My sister told me this story last night on the phone and I about peed myself laughing. Oh, yes I did! In fact I am laughing as I type this. (My cube neighbors? I scare them.) I can only assume my mother and sister were THIS CLOSE to their breaking points by the time they rolled into Show Low, what with the vivid flashbacks and whatnot. They likely had to medicate when they got home.
I am of course grateful that it was my sister and not my dear father relating this story or I would have surely heard, "Hey! Remember that time we left you at church?!" and I would have been forced to respond, "No, Dad, I've repressed that memory. Why don't you share? Wait. Let me get a Xanax... Okay, go."
Oh man, oh man, oh MAN! I miss my kiddos!
Because the silence, y'all? The silence?
- Bente commented:
Aww, I bet you miss them! And Sandy's mom doesn't sound like she was "the nicest tool in the shed". Yeesh. By the way, I've been told by many close to me that I sometimes have diarrhea of the mouth too.
- » 7/25/2005 7:13 AM
- mrtl commented:
Cat, why do I get the impression that your mouth can't keep up with your brain? Isn't that a scary thought? Maybe TGYM should keep that in mind when he's feeling HUNTED: it could be worse.
The more stories you share like this, the more I believe that I had your reincarnate (or would it be clone) in my sixth grade class. The one who held her arm up all period when I wouldn't call on her? You're totally her. Hysterical!
- » 7/25/2005 10:14 AM
- kalki commented:
First of all, the word diarrhea should never be uttered anywhere near the word mouth. Eew eew and more eew.
Second, I am ALL FOR the window seat and the yellow kitchen and the pink girls' room with green trim. Seriously, if I were remodeling a new place, those are exactly the things I would do. I'm not kidding. Scary, huh?
Third, loved this post. It felt like a conversation with you. Granted, one in which you were doing all of the talking, but apparently that's par for the course.... ;)
- » 7/25/2005 10:22 AM
- Charlotte in Pa commented:
Pink with green trim? Going all Lily Pulitzer? C-U-T-E! I know a little girl whose room is those colors and she LOVES it. She has the cutest bedspread with pink flamingos. I made her a "treasure box" for Christmas with 6 drawers that was pink, green and white. Okay.. enough of THAT.
My sister has 6 kids and one weekend at a baseball tournament they left the 4th one (who was 7)there. My sister thought my BIL had her, my BIL thought my sister had her. It was 8 years ago, and even though we love to tell the story, she STILL doesn't think it's funny. Poor thing.
Who has d-word of the mouth.. err... fingers now?
- » 7/25/2005 7:58 PM
- Circus Kelli commented:
Oh.My.Gock. This one time, I was talking to my half-brother and I was all "Wow, I was just talking to Mom and it was impossible to get her off the phone because she just would. not. stop. talking. and blah blah blah and yadda yadda yadda and holey moley jacoley..." and that's when I realized I was doing the exact same thing to him.
Oh, and my Punkin girl (our oldest) talks a lot, but when she's being quiet, it's Sweet Pea's turn and she'll just talk and talk and talk on our family drives around the county and then she gets to this place where we've almost had enough, and I can look at Hubby and say "10 minutes" and he'll know that in 10 minutes we will have silence because she will totally be asleep and I can't imagine why Buddy isn't talking so much yet..."
- » 7/26/2005 10:39 AM
- not-so-normal mom commented:
Okay, just so ya'll know, its not only girls that do the talking...I have three boys and my middle one, bless his little heart, LOVES to talk. About anything! Random! He's totally like that little boy on Jerry Maguire."Did you know the human head weighs eight pounds?" OMG! I loved this post, it was great! And if I had girls, I would totally decorate their room like you are! Awesome!
- » 7/26/2005 1:41 PM