Tag Archives: Parenthood

Party On, Dude! Some Risky Business Happened at My House

tom cruise

You did it.  You got caught.

 

Your best friend did it.  She got caught.

 

My kid did it.  Oh, he totally got caught.

 

Totally.

 

We left our house overnight and The Party happened.  You know, the pull-the-drapes-so-the-neighbors-don’t-see, call-in-the-masses and take-advantage-of-an-unsupervised- 24-hours kind of Party.

 

(I’m sure right about now Kristi and Schnidt are flashing back a few decades and howling with laughter.  Quite possibly Nancy is flashbacking to throwing up in my mother’s washing machine.  But I digress.)

 

Man, oh, man, these stories are so much more entertaining when someone else is telling them.

 

Naturally I became aware of The Party by the next morning.  The kids were duly distributed at friends’ homes and the house was supposed to be empty.  My oldest was leaving within hours after us for a work commitment.

 

Wouldn’t you know that work commitment had been cancelled?  Um, as a matter of fact, no, we didn’t know.  Because my son neglected to mention that.

 

Fortunately, my husband and I swing on opposite sides of the rage pendulum.  That’s a good thing.  We’d be on the DCF watch list for sure if we were both crazy pissed at the exact same time.  So while his fingers gripped the steering wheel during the two-and-a-half hour drive home and a steady mist of steam exited his ears, I naturally tried to offer perspective.

 

Didn’t we do it, too (because… doesn’t everybody)?  Didn’t we laugh, laugh, laugh when my sister walked in on teen Beer Pong in her own basement? Didn’t we kinda sorta expect this someday?

 

He seethed.

 

I reached.  Didn’t we have friends who would be relieved, even thrilled if their less-than-social kid threw a party?

 

He gripped the wheel tighter.

 

When we walked in, the house was empty.  The Guilty stayed away.

 

I expected to return to an immaculate home.

 

I did not.

 

Funny what make that rage pendulum swung back in my direction.

 

Apparently I’d shown my cards too soon with my litany of text messages to The Guilty (beginning with “REALLY?????”) because once The Guilty realized the jig was up ….  Apparently so was his attempt to cover up.

 

I found the curtains still closed.

 

I found the beer pong balls (that cackling you hear is coming straight from my sister’s house in Jersey).

 

I found the one (because hello, there’s always ONE) lone bottle cap wedged under the counter stool.

 

I found that every one of my towels was used for the hot tub.  (This ticked me off immeasurably since a few of my luxurious — cough, borrowed —  Carnival Cruise Lines beach towels have gone missing.)

 

I found the Red Solo cups neatly stacked … yet still sitting on the counter.

 

I found the bag of empties, smartly collected, yet (stupidly) placed in full view with the recycling.

 

I found toast still in the toaster, egg shells in the sink and overflowing dirty dishes.  (I’m fairly certain these have nothing to do with The Party but seriously.)

 

I found that The Guilty is either the dumbest kid in the stratosphere … or the laziest.

 

And I can’t for the life of me decide which is worse.

 

I tried to pin the coincidental breakdown of the washing machine on him. While the repairman worked, I sipped my coffee and told him my story, fully disclosing that I was anxious to see if the awful grinding sound was a haphazard load of hot tub towels gone awry.  When he handed me a sock that had lodged in the pump, my dreams of a magic bullet were squashed.

 

So I was steamed.  And there were consequences.  And it is very (VERY) unlikely that it will happen again (she says with fingers crossed and sister laughing).

 

But there were no damages.

 

And no police helicopters ala Project X.

 

And no Guido the killer pimp.

 

And nobody went running naked through my neighborhood (surely they would have been covered in fluffy cruise line towels).

 

And well, clichés happen.

 

 

I do love how stories like these bring out even greater ones.  On the Monday morning following The Party I went into work still reeling a little.

 

My laughing co-worker immediately told me her best story (for we all have one) of her brother and herself throwing ridiculous parties all throughout high school — until the one time it got completely out of control.  They met in the bathroom and made the decision to call the cops on their own party.

 

 

Called the cops on themselves.   How great is that?

 

See?  There is always a better story out there somewhere.

 

Always.

 

 

 

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

 

 

Read any good books lately?  Start one here:  A Collection Of Eyerolls:  A Momoir

 

 

 

Chapter 1, Click here:   https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-eyerolls-chapter-1-yes-billy-joel-we-will-all-go-down-together/

 

Chapter 2, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/08/13/chapter-2-sometimes-kids-suck-a-lot/

 

Chapter 3, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/09/22/chapter-3-sorry-were-tied-all-kids-are-filthy/

 

 

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements.  (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore).   A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram. 

 

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This Is Uh… Not Cutting It. Yet.

Image result for this is us

 

 

I’m not going to be very popular in a minute or so.  I get that.   And I accept that.  But if I’m being completely honest (the whole point of a blog), I have to reveal: my love for This Is Us is waning and dammit, I simply refuse to believe I am alone here.

 

Hold onto those rocks, people, I don’t dislike the story of the Pearsons and I’m not throwing in the towel on them.   I – along with everyone else – was unabashedly hooked by the time the how-is-that-guy-smoking-in-a-hospital scene blew this show into the stratosphere.  It’s still a sweet little show and I think it’s got a nice thread of affection weaving through it and making it a pleasant hour of television. (A bonus:  it’s got Susan Kelechi Watson, whose Beth is single handedly the coolest mom on television.)  But (dramatic pause here, waiting for the haters to assemble) it’s not Parenthood.

 

Alas, I am Team Braverman for life and I really thought this show was going to fill that deep void.  I’m finding it’s not.  So I’m a little bummed because I was counting on it.

 

Parenthood was my hands down reality check.  People screwing up with their kids?  Yep.  People making mistakes with their significant others?  All the time.  Kids behaving badly and seeing consequences for that?  Yessiree.  When Kristina was going through her chemo treatments, it was hard for me to watch and harder for me to breathe, having just gone through it with my mom.  It was steeped in realism and throughout the years, their struggles became our strength:  viewers knew if the Bravermans got through it, we could too.

 

The Pearsons aren’t feeling very real to me yet.  I feel like I’m now watching them with a heavy heart and a side of I don’t care.   Hear me out a minute:

 

Exhibit A:  We already know Jack and Rebecca don’t end well.  Every fight they have now seems like another nail in their 80s-lacquered-coffin.  It’s gotten to be a little dose of dread in every scene they share together.

 

Exhibit B:  William’s impending death.  Finding out in what, episode 2, that a well-liked character is on the way out gives little reason to become very vested in him (although I hear “Bates Motel” is making a go of it.  Creepy fun coming from that network but I digress).  We simply watch each episode wondering, is this the one…..

 

Exhibit C:  Kate.  This may be nit-picking but how does she pay her bills?   I remember her interviewing for and then getting a job for a day or two but then she quit and …. flying to the east coast for the holidays, a couple of weeks as a hospital visitor and now an undisclosed amount of time at a fancy exercise farm?  Whaaaat?  Who can check out of life like that? I don’t want to do online research to find out her back story but what’s her deal?  What’s she been doing for 15 year of an adult life that affords her such luxury of time and money?  Until that’s explained, I’ll keep shaking my head and finding her storyline wayyyyy unrealistic.

 

 

Maybe I’m feeling melancholy and just missing Zeek and his crew.  Maybe I’m waiting for something to happen that I hadn’t already seen coming.  Maybe I just want to believe more.  There’s a lot going on in this wundershow that I simply don’t buy into.   I don’t think Randall would’ve handed over his fancy car for a joy ride to anyone without a license.  I don’t believe Kevin would’ve missed his opening night performance.  I don’t believe any kids in the history of the world go up to their rooms when their parents say “Go up to your rooms” without so much as a “… but whyyyyyyy?”

 

So I’ll stick with “This Is Us” to see if the frenetic pace of A CRISIS IS COMING AROUND THAT BEND BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO STAY TUNED TO SEE WHAT … slows to a reasonable rhythm.   I won’t desert them.

 

It’s as if the writers are afraid of losing viewers if they slow down the “A-ha!” moments and spend an episode or four fleshing out their (talented) cast of characters.  To that I say, trust us.  We know good shows when we see them.  And we stay faithful to them.

 

Like the Bravermans taught us.

 

 

 

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements.  (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore).   A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram.