It is Mother’s Day this weekend, and that means one thing here at Oldenhome. The siblings are coming. BOTH of them.
When the three of us are together, our lifelong Contest goes on warp speed. This is the Contest in which we compete for the title of Number One. Technically, I am Number One, since I am the oldest. My brother is then Number Two [heh heh heh I said number two] and the youngest, our sister, is Number Three. Except chronology is not at issue here. The numbers instead denote which child is currently the favorite one. The Olds usually have different favorites at different times, but the object of this Contest is to be the overall favorite. My brother, for instance, is always Number One with one of the Olds. She pretends that this is not so, but it is. When I emerged from my studio yesterday, I came upstairs to lots of delighted chatter and giggling and then the announcement: “HAVE YOU HEARD THE GOOD NEWS?!”
Me: No–did someone die?
Old: M— is coming for Mother’s Day!!!
[I swear to God: then she did a little dance of joy. It was scary.]
Me: Oh, good!
[Remind myself to remove needles from sewing machines, as once when brother was here, he thought it would be fun to “sew” and ended up sewing parts of his own shirt together. While he was wearing it.]
Other Old [morose]: You know what this means?
Me: Shit.
Other Old: Yes.
[the two of us make runs for our respective lairs]
Joyful Old, who has been twittering and humming to herself: Where are you going? I HAVE TASKS FOR YOU!!!!
Me & Other Old, from above and below: I CAN’T HEAR YOU.
The Joyful Old was in such a good mood yesterday that we were able to avoid being Tasked for the most part. But. She has now completed what she views as her own list of tasks–moving around stacks of cookbooks, which she calls “organizing”, and disposing of about 12 magazines from 2012 on the living room coffee table so that there is room enough to set a single coffee cup. All remaining Tasks, most of which involve actual work, will be outsourced to the other Old and me.
Therefore, I must leave the house immediately. This may affect my standing and drop me down to Number Three, but that is a risk I am willing to take compared to the diseases I could contract from cleaning out the refrigerator. The other Old will not be pleased, but at times like this, it is everyone for themselves.
Ominous footsteps are overhead as I write this. I may have left my escape too late. PRAY FOR ME.
parenting guide for grown-ups 