Thursday, November 25, 2004


I wish there were more words to describe dysfunction but that's how the past 24 hours have been. Tuesday night I had the dreaded Parents/teachers meeting at my son's school. The wait could be for up to an hour as each parent is alloted 10 minutes to gab with the teacher, but somehow - being that they're Israeli parents who like to talk and argue - it ends up being 20 minutes each. I was the next to the last parent to see the teacher and as I waited looking at my split ends my son speaks at last - DON'T LOOK FOR LICE HERE. Honey, I wasn't looking for lice. I haven't had lice in about a year. Lice - the dreaded plague, plagues every child here and they, in turn, pass it to their mothers, myself included. My youngest is 12 and for one year now, I haven't seen the pesky critters anywhere on anyone's head in our house. What a pleasure.

Ah, but getting back to my dysfunctional day - my daughter celebrated her 15th birthday that night as well. She showed up asking for Chinese food and didn't want a cake. Who doesn't want a cake on a birthday. Mum certainly does. So I ordered the cake of her choice - it was sickeningly sweet, that I think she, in her teen wisdom, knew this well in advance. The Chinese food was a treat for me, as I didn't have to cook that night. This was loser Chinese food though with the sauces overpowering the bits of chicken among the peppers. What the hell - she liked it though.

The next day my Good Daughter gets sick and begs me to come home and make dinner for her - "since you haven't made dinner in a long time" - saying this as if it had been decades since I've been near the stovetop. Yes, since I finished nursing you, my dear, you haven't had dinner. Nor you, your siblings and father and everyone else who complains about its absence.

Even this morning Abed, our Palestinian friend, whom Hubby drives to work with him each day, gets into the car and digs into me, asking Hubby - What did you have for breakfast today. Breakfast? Who has breakfast as we all rush out in the am. Putting my lenses in, in the morning, is enough work for me, as well as making sure my own friggin' teeth are brushed and my face thoroughly moisturized. Abed dug in some more - "When I was at your house, and Hubby asked for the kids to do something and one of them said - 'no, YOU do it' - if it were one of my kids, I would ask them 'for what did I bring you into the world'?"

I thought for more than a fleeting moment - why couldn't the Israeli army have put up a checkpoint just that day in front of MY house so that Abed wouldn't have been able to visit and notice my spoiled brat kids. They may not have much, these Palestinians, but they do have children who behave better to their families than we do.


Anonymous said...

they call it lup-sup in China, I think...

timx said...

Lack of parental respect is a terrible thing! I was brought up to know that my parents were always right....However, that meant that I learned that I was always wrong - not so good!