Stories About My Family & Friends
I hail from a large family. Like with all large families, indeed, any large group, rumors sometimes get spread around. In my family, we often find humor in the rumors and will even embellish upon them. Thank God our nieces and nephews have grown up with our sick, and even morbid, senses of humor.
When one of my brothers passed away, the rumor mill spit out that his ex-wife had probably murdered him in order to get his social security checks.
I was horrified that one of his children would suffer the pain and sting of such a comment while mourning their father’s death so I reached out to them. The first person I sent a text to was Jackie.
Me: I know your mother is bat shit crazy, but I hope you know she would not and did not kill your father.
Jackie: Yes, we know that.
We talked for a few minutes and she reiterated that no matter the bad taste in jokes, she knew it was just that and she did not take any offense.
Her younger brother Jason seems pretty flippant about such matters so I was sure he blew it off, but the oldest; Jerimi was just a tad bit more serious than the other two. I reached out to him as well, with the same message about their mother being bat shit crazy but not a murderer.
Two hours later, I get a reply back: I think you have the wrong number, but please continue. This promises to be interesting.
Me: This isn’t Jerimi?
Her: No. I’m not even a he. You must not talk to Jerimi very much, though, because I’ve had this number for a couple of months.
I’m digesting this new information. I can’t believe that little turd did not let me know he change phone numbers.
Her: Who are you?
Me: I’m Aunt Michelle. Who are you?
Her: I guess that makes me your niece, Brittany.
Me: I don’t have a niece Brittany.
Her: You do now.
Me: Well, welcome to the family. We’re a group of sick people who make sick jokes and have an uncouth sense of humor.
Her: With sick rumors. I feel welcome already.
I go silent for a few minutes as I check around and yes, Jerimi did change his phone number several months earlier. He’s aware of the rumor and thinks it’s laughable… as long as he’s okay I was fine. Meanwhile…
Her: Aunt Michelle, are you still there?
Her: Are you going to finish the story? Who is Jerimi?
Me: He’s my nephew – his father died a few days ago and someone in the family was joking around that his ex-wife probably killed him.
Her: Was my fake-daddy rich?
Me: LOL No!
Her: Why would fake-mama kill him then?
Me: For his Social Security checks.
Her: I need to have a talk with fake-mama. That’s just plain stupid to kill someone for their social security check.
Me: She didn’t do it, though.
Her: How did fake-daddy die then?
Me: He likely had a heart attack (which it turned out later that is what happened).
This exchange went on for a couple of hours with the two of us going back and forth. It was hilarious and she was a good sport about me getting the wrong number. I promised to keep her informed if anything else happened.
In the end, we both agreed: There’s nothing like other family’s dramas to help you cope with your own.
While keeping my granddaughter one day, a commercial came on the TV about pies; I think it was Sara Lee or something. I call my granddaughter, Angel Pie.
I didn’t think anything of that, though, when I said to her, “I love it, pies!”
She stopped what she was doing and said, “Your favorite is Angel Pie.”
Later, the same day, after my husband came in, I stretched out on the couch and apparently, I nodded off. I awoke to something being forcefully jammed into my mouth and my Angel Pie’s tiny voice saying, “Here, Momo, you need your passy!”
It was a toy pacifier from one of her dolls that she was trying to stick into my mouth.
This child is a mess! I adore her, though. She certainly keeps me in chuckles.
I was keeping my granddaughter (she's 3) and I had received a package in the mail. She asked if she could open it and I told her yes.
"This is for me?" she asked as she stuck her little hand in the now open bag.
"If you want to be," I answered.
"What is it?"
She pulls it out and then opens the package it is in and puts it on... she decided it was too big for her
We had a lunch date with someone who has a difficult time walking and often resorts to her cane for support. We were supposed to meet with her for lunch one afternoon on Front Street (Her, my husband, and me). We had decided the River Room would be our meeting spot.
My husband suggested she just pull up, get out, and just let him park her car for her so, she would not have that far to walk. I thought it was quite a thoughtful idea so I called her.
As the phone is ringing, she drives by and my husband says, “There she goes.”
She doesn’t answer so, I call again. “There she goes again,” my husband announces. She’s still not answering so I call a third time.
“There she is.”
She had parked the car and was walking toward us. I was so exasperated. I told her why I kept calling, but she thought it was the doctor’s office telling her to come on in they’d work her in to see the doctor.
“Uhm, no… they will not ever do that,” I explained. “They will call you one time, one time only and if you don’t answer, you’ll be lucky to get a voicemail that they even bothered to call.”
As we were leaving, my husband offered to go and get the car for her. She handed him the keys and told him which was for the door and the one for the ignition. My husband takes the keys as she adds jokingly, “Now, it’s that royal blue Mercedes parked outside.”
Several minutes later, he pulls up and she gets in her car. As she’s pulling away we notice her flashers are still blinking and he says, “Should we call and tell her?”
“Nope,” I answer. “She’ll figure it out and even if she doesn’t, she’s not going to answer the damn phone anyway.”
While getting into our car he says, “Did she say she drives a royal blue Mercedes?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask before remembering her parting comment to him when she gave him the key. “Why?”
With a note of irritation he says, “Because I was out here looking for a blue Mercedes!”
“What! You saw what she was driving, you know very well she does not have a Mercedes,” I exclaimed. “She was joking!”
Shaking his head and laughing at himself a little, he added, “Well, I found what I thought was her truck and I went to unlock the door with the key she said to use.”
“...And?” I prompted.
“And, the windows were down.”
I started laughing at this point. “You are both going to drive me nuts,” I say as I continue to laugh.
“I wasn’t sure if it was hers because I kept thinking blue...Mercedes...truck, but I got in anyway and tried the ignition,” he said of his situation. “It turned over and I went ahead and backed out.”
“What would you have done if it wasn’t her truck?”
“Taken it back and left a note apologizing,” he answered.
The next day, Irene calls me and says, “I was driving around town all day with my flashers blinking. I couldn’t figure out why everyone was so nice as they kept their distance and they even let me change lanes with no problem. Finally, someone told me my blinkers were flashing.”
I have laughed so hard over these two; they’re two peas in a pod. It was a good day.
One Saturday, we’d gone to a couple of community yard sales. We had our two-year old granddaughter with us. I had brought a couple of snacks for her to chew on during the day. However, I forgot to eat something myself.
My blood sugar tanked on me in a big way. I ate a couple of Jolly Ranchers® and it brought my glucose level back up. An hour later, it happened again. Usually, when my blood sugar drops, my body gets exhausted trying to keep my sugar up so, I need to nap even if for only 15 minutes which I did not do either time.
Normally, I would walk around the neighborhood, but this time (because of my situation) we would have to ride down the block. I also told Grandpa not to even bother snapping my granddaughter in the car seat as we were only going five houses down the street.
“What do you want me to do with her?”
“Bring her over here, let her sit in my lap,” I answered. “Its five houses away, we’re going 2 MPH, I think she’ll be alright.”
By the time we got there, this child had gone through the console, the glove compartment, looked on the floor, asked “Momo Purse?”, found the dome lights, and opened the sunroof in the car.
When we left that house, Grandpa was going to put the things Momo (me) got into the back seat. She was with him as he carried the things to my side of the car. Needless to say, she tried to get in the front seat with me.
Grandpa told her, “No, no… we’re getting in the car seat.”
Granddaughter: “Don’t want it.”
Grandpa: “We have to get in the car seat so we can go bye-bye. We’re leaving.”
With minimal reluctance, she went to the other side of the car. Grandpa’s mistake was opening the driver’s side first before putting her in the car seat.
You should have seen those eyes light up! She thought for sure she hit the jackpot and now she was going to push all those buttons that Grandpa (Papa) pushes when he sits up there.
Grandpa: “No, no, we need to get back here. “
Granddaughter: “Don’t want it. Climb in, I’ll get it! I’ll get it!”
All I could do was chuckle. I was so wiped out, she could have driven the car and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop her. I did finally manage a nap (both of us did), however, because I waited too long to rejuvenate my body, I was dragging along the rest of the day. She, on the other hand, was still having a ball when I talked to my daughter later that evening around eight.
Toddlers… God knew what he was doing when he gave them to young people. Whew!