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| Us behaving relatively normally |
On Friday
nights, Tom and I come back from the farm and I head round to Mum and Dad’s for
dinner. Most of the time, the night
proceeds according to the following itinerary:
1. Arrive, greet one-another. 2.
Drink wine, talk about things. 3. Drink
more wine, talk loudly and laugh. 4. Eat
some food. 5. Descend into
hysterics. Argue. Someone storm out. Everyone cry except Dad who tells everyone to
calm down. 6. Recalibrate, return to
laughing and telling stories. Drink
whiskey.
I am accustomed
to this itinerary and although obviously I dream about one day sailing through
a drama-free evening, I realise at this point that’s a fairly unrealistic
ambition. My only hope is that we might
someday refrain from enacting section (5) when I invite a friend to join us. So far this hope remains just that.
The last
time I invited Caitlin for dinner, things were progressing so smoothly I
actually allowed myself to think: ‘well, save for some ridiculous blow-up, I
cannot see what could possible go wrong.’
See where I’m going here? In the
end it was an old pair of jeans that spelled our un-doing, in that my sister emerged
in them, and they were mine, and my observation of this fact must have sounded
slightly on the bitchy-side, because before long all of the requisite
components of section (5) had been enacted.
My sister and I have a habit of regressing back to childlike maturity
levels when we argue. It’s like a really
un-cute time capsule.
After the
event I was embarrassed enough at my family’s lack of collective control to not
invite Caitlin around for a long time.
But last weekend, both of us having run out of cash, the lure of free
food and grog was too strong. ‘Don’t
worry,’ read the text to Caitlin, ‘we all get along really well now.’
Charlotte
and Will, the adorable spawn of my oldest friend, Katie Rose, were at the door
to great us. Mum looks after both of
them on a regular basis, but this was the first time she’d tackled the double
whammy and together, they were a buzzing behemoth of loudness, falling over
each other to impress the new arrival.
‘I WANNA SIT
NEXT TO CAITLIN!’ Screamed Charlotte as
we positioned ourselves around the tiny kitchen table. By the time the first drinks were poured, the
scene had taken on a jungle-like vibe, both kids clamouring all over my
obliging friend as music played, Anna rapped and Mum and I shouted our news
over the din. Propelled on by the
bleating children, the night’s excitement had built to a stunning crescendo
when Mum yelled, ‘Right, kids, time for bed!’
Even I felt
my bubble bursting. For their part, the
kids panicked, instantly entering negotiation mode. ‘But what if we don’t brush our teeth?’ Eventually, a deal was struck. William would forgo story time in favour of
some extra Caitlin-time. Charlotte
caved, and trotted out after Mum to the bedroom.
‘I need you
to look at some furniture I found in the hard rubbish!’ Dad announced as soon as they had left. So out we went to the garage, drinks in hand
and conversation rattling on.
‘Do you like
this?’ Dad enquired, shining his
head-torch at many things.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Hey
Katie!’ Anna yelled from behind me.
‘Yeah?’
‘KATE!’ Dad again.
‘Pay attention!’ Now holding a big
white table.
‘Ummmmm… yeah
I think I-’
‘Katie,’
Anna now, ‘I have an idea for how I can make lots of money from my raps!’
Suddenly, a
shoeless William shot out from inside the house, slamming the door and
screaming ‘Wooooooooooo!’
‘Catch
him!’ Yelled Anna, and all of us flailed
to trap the feral-child. At exactly this
point, Mum emerged, close to tears.
‘WHAT IS GOING ON?’ She blurted.
Utter
confusion reigned. What was going
on? Mum glared at me and with Dad’s
head-torch shining in my face, I was literally a dear caught in the headlights.
Now Mum
really was crying. ‘What are you guys
doing out here!?’
Under
pressure, we seemed to have forgotten the original reason for our mission. William had ceased dashing around and was
bawling, confused.
‘You were
supposed to have Will in bed by now!
He’s been tearing around disturbing Charlotte!’ As Mum berated us, Dad scooped up the sobbing
child and fled the scene. It was on me.
‘I didn’t
know!’ I said, hard done by. ‘You should have told me if you wanted me to
put him to bed!’
‘I thought I
did!’ Blubbed Mum.
And so, with
Caitlin standing awkwardly beside us, Mum and I whined at each other in the
dark, neither of us willing to accept blame for the wayward child.
From there
the scene played out as it always does, with Dad absconding, Anna trying to
remain as quiet as possible, and Mum and I relating our feelings to each other
until all the feelings have been purged.
The eventual conclusion was that Mum had been at the end of her tether,
and that there should have been a clearer decision on Will’s bed time.
But as I
emerged back to the lounge room to find Caitlin chatting politely with Anna, it
dawned on me. We’d done it again! ‘Are we too crazy to keep it together for one
fucking night?!’ I moaned aloud,
reverting back to tears.
Caitlin,
realising I was genuinely distressed by my family’s penchant for imploding,
giggled as she came to hug me.
‘I don’t
think you’re crazy.’ She reassured
me. ‘I always feel very welcome here!’
And for some
reason, I knew she was telling the truth about the second part. I guess from now on, I’ll just have to
forward the itinerary to guests before they come over.
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| The kids in question |
