A Love Letter to My Folks OR Mom, You Always Said I Should Be a Comedian.

So...there is no other way to start this out than by saying that my folks are THE BEST doggone parents a girl could have...literally.  They were and are loving, but very (read very very...like one shaved head/habit shy of a convent) strict.  We were blanketed in affection & coffee cake.  Even running to the store earned us kisses all around, and does still to this day.  On Sunday afternoons, we had these great picnics in the back room.  Mom would spread out towels and we would enjoy a feast of White Castle hamburgers (a fast food choice that appalls my hubster, calls them "Monkey Meat Sandwiches", to no end)  They brooked no nonesense from me and my sissy (up to the college years...then I think we just plain ole wore them out)  (well...maybe a little less from me and a tad more from "new baby"..but you other first-borns know what I'm talking about, don't ya...ps, I love you new baby..xo ).  And as good parents should, each one brought a different skill set to the parental goulash that is growing up. 

My dad kind of raised me to think like a dude; which, while being a super fun party trick on girls night out, can tend to make me a bit of an oddball...okay, okay...that'll be enough from the peanut gallery (But wait, hold on, I just gotta ask... what is a peanut gallery anyhow? Is it a bunch of rooms filled with well lit exhibits of extraordinary examples of nutty legume perfection? OR...is it, as I imagine it, just a big ole theater filled with row after row of Mr. Peanut impersonators all hooting and hollerin' out their two cents worth....yeah that one...let's go with that one.  Okay...now back to the show).   When I talk to my dad about some emotional dust-up or another that I've gotten into, he shakes his head and gives me that pained look that clearly says "please, for the love of your father...leave off all those itty bitty girlie details that are important for nothing except making this excrutiatingly detailed scenerio last longer and keep us from a.) finding the right solution to this straight-forward problem and b.) getting me back to my war movie / home-improvement show". When we talk about business, he regularly tells me to take all emotion out of the equation, and just deal in facts.  He is THE BEST that "man" has to offer.  He loves his wife, girls, son-in-laws and grandchildren fully...with nothing held back, no "love" stone left unturned.  He is quick to laugh and slow to anger with us.  He is EXCELLENT at exotic accents and is full of corny jokes (much to our communal chagrin & his unending delight).  He is the first one to tell us when we've gotten off the path and the first one to come to our aid to help us back on.  He has been given by God the power of disernment and wisdom...if John tells you something, I promise you, it would behoove you to listen...for reals.

Conversely, my mom did everything in her considerable power to make us the girliest girls that ever did girly things on planet super-girlie...up to and including teaching me how to curl my eyelashes in the 5th grade, how to utilize "Sun-In" as a beauty aid and making my sissy and I wear ridiculously-ruffled matching Gunne Sax frocks (regardless of the fact that we were 6 years apart, and that while empire-waisted dresses, trimmed in ribbon, with a mile-high lacey collars look ADORABLE on 1st graders, conversely, your 7th grader would rather not look like a piece of 1980's confection on picture day and, oh joy, for all of posterity....I'm just sayin').   She taught me everything I know about relating to all people.  She is dedicated to making people feel special and cared for.  She ALWAYS remembers special days and our favorite things, she unfailingly writes notes for EVERY occasion, and she loves phrases like "how do you feel?" and "what can I do for you?"  She is all things good and true and honest in womenhood.  She is beautiful inside and out (which is to say she's still a total hottie), clever and artistic.  She takes such great care of our dad (she still makes his lunches everyday...and even for my hubster when she comes to spend the night...he gets sooo doggone spoiled) and loves us girls, our hubsters and her grandbabies to distraction.  She is the epitome of the "mama bear" if ANY of us is even remotely poked at..she WILL cut you and drop you like a bag of cement.  She is ABSOLUTE about her beliefs and opinions and would win, hands down, any debate team nationals, given a chance.  She is pretty much to motherhood what Sean Connery is to hot Scottish men (and if you know me at all, you know of my undying love for Mr. Connery and what high praise this is indeed).   (and ps...yes...I have come to terms with the fact that my days with Mr. Connery are numbered and am currently interviewing extensively for a replacement...I'm told Gerard Butler is waiting anxiously by the phone for my call).  My mommy is the real deal...all the way.  She has been given by God the gifts of mercy and faith.  She worries for nothing and is unflagging in her belief that God will make a way...NO MATTER WHAT!!

So...the upshot of all this is that we (me and Mar-bear) have all this great stuff from our folks that has been mashed up to make, well...me and my dearest sissy, different and alike both and both a slightly unique interpretation of our mommy and daddy in all the best and weirdest ways.   My personal "Daggles / Moosie" sides can sometimes play nice with each other, and at other times...well, let's just say it can be like a not-so-fun scooby-doo haunted carnival episode up in here (pointing to my medusa-like too curly red-head.   Incidentally brought to you by:  new layers plus MI humidity). 

So, thusly, my "Uber Girlie-girl Artsy" side can mix it up a bit with my well..."2nd generation Italian Vietnam-vet Contractor" side (you can see how this could be troublesome).  It tends to make me VERY resolute (read...stubborn) about the things I believe, crazy-super-duper opinionated (you're shocked, I know) and also a wee bit "dude-ish" when dealing with overly emotional situations.  Which is to say, I don't love them and tend to zone out and begin scrambling for the escape hatch asap.  That "guy(ish)" part of me can be heard saying things like "well...you're just gonna have to toughen up buttercup" and "suck it up...what the heck did you expect to happen?"  While on the other side of the carnival grounds that is my personality, my "diva-artsy" side does things like wearing her pajamas all day and hiding away in her studio "creating", wearing false lashes and hot pink eye shadow to the grocery store just for the love of it and befriending random elderly Italian couples in hospital waiting rooms and becoming fast and busom buddies.

While this tug-o-war with my parental units' input used to fluster me a bit, I have learned to give in to the dichotomy that is "the eldest daughter of Johnny & Moni".  Not only give in really, but actually relish...run toward and even groove on.  To really take a beat and fancy all those pieces parts.

Delightedly, 15 years ago, God picked out the perfect guy for me who loves almost all of my idiosyncrasies.  Some, admittedly, he adores an itsy-bitsy less than others (as there are a few that are just beyond the pale by anybody's standards). 

He is eternally cool with being the romantic in our relationship and the one who always remembers special days and anniversaries.  He greatly appreciates the lunches  I make for him (somewhat sporadically) & (complete with lettuce and tomato on his sandwiches, which for some unknown reason pains me greatly and seems like a LOT OF WORK for the meager healthy payout) and acknowledges with humor how it goes against my baser instincts to do so.  He accepts that our bathroom is frequently full of girls of all ages and doubles on a moments warning as a hair salon/makeup artist studio; and that my hair color/style changes as habitually as Katy Perry's.  He doesn't crab or turn down the music when I have it cranked to an abnoxious level as I sing and dance around the kitchen while I clean...stopping frequently for my (badly done) break-out solos. And as if all that wasn't already cake & icing...he acquiesces almost every time when I ask him, as we girls are wont to do, what he loves most about me . He answer is always the same, "Your eyes."...to which I maddeningly whine, "no, not physically...what do you love about 'me the person'"...his every-time reply:  "Your tenacity".  Which I then follow up with the predictably girlie-ish trick question of "and what do you love the least about me?"..to which he again, just as consistently, replies "Your tenacity".  So there you have it folks... 

So thank you again, Mom & Dad for the mash-up that made me.  It's a gift I'll always be greatful for and just a wee teeny bit leery of.
Tenaciously Yours,
Andi