Thank You for Asking

Catastrophe

I find myself filled with outrage, pain and confusion with the latest distressing news streaming across the airwaves perpetuated by irresponsible journalists.  I don’t normally take such an interest in current events but this one affected me to my core.  It goes against everything I believe in and has rocked my confidence in our so-called civilized society.  I find it reprehensible, and I don’t think I’m the only one.  When I opened the newspaper that fateful morning and saw the story…well, I’m only now able to speak about it at all.  And no wonder!  To wake up confident of one’s standing as a diplomatic, urbane, easy-going Libra only to be casually informed you are in fact a…a…Virgo!  Why not inform me via e-mail that I was adopted, that my child was switched in the hospital, that my husband is a Russian counter-spy specializing in forensic accounting (actually…).

After a stiff cup of English Breakfast Tea to calm my nerves I settle into my office to try and get to the bottom of this Zodiac catastrophe.  My first call is to Micki who seems confused and has no idea what I’m talking about.  Barb is next, but she isn’t answering.  As a last-ditch effort I try Beloved who hangs up on me as soon as he hears the word “Zodiac.” 

Since I have a long 4 ½ days left until my next therapist appointment I try to apply some of the techniques learned over the past 15 some odd years I have logged in a psychotherapist’s office.

First of all, what is really going on here?  Am I distressed over the fact that the earth’s rotation has changed, which sounds scary, or did I attach myself too blindly to my Libran character traits?

For example, if Beloved is irritated at my “mad wanton spending”, I am able to shrug it off due to the fact that Librans love luxury.  It is not my fault.  It is written in the stars.

If Beloved thinks I am a little too loud or shrill at a dinner party and he “can’t get a word in edgewise”, it’s not my fault I’m vivacious and good-looking  (I didn’t say it!).

If Barb and Micki have had it with me showing up a teensy bit late occasionally, I just shrug in a charming manner and say prettily, “you know us Librans…” (and try to change the subject quickly before they really get annoyed).

Suddenly I’m supposed to be a Virgo?!  When I looked up their traits I almost fainted!  They “plan” and “work toward goals.”  They “analyze, solve and assess.”  Any of those words taken alone would make me want to vomit, but all at once!  It’s just too much!  Yesterday I was a Libra that was over-achieving in self-indulgence, today I’m a Virgo that’s messy. 

I think the only way to deal with this is denial, and maybe a nice long soapy bath followed by a nap…with a hot cup of tea and a good book…and a tiny snack whilst I converse with friends regarding this travesty. Thank goodness Middle is home sick today.  He can help out until Rosee arrives at 2:00.

Imperfections

Beloved thinks I’m taking our reversal-of-fortune situation a little too far.  I think I’m just being pragmatic.  Why shouldn’t our kids start contributing?  How hard can child acting/modeling be?  I must say, my children are cute…especially Middle (no offense Oldest and Youngest), and I’m pretty sure they can go to school, do sports, and whatever else they do whilst having lucrative careers as child actor/models.  It’s not like I’m not doing my part.  I am furiously working on my Romance Novel which I’m confident will solve most of our problems.  In actual fact, I find our reversal of fortune a little comforting.  Everything seems somehow sweeter, more poignant.  Life’s choices are more straightforward as there are fewer of them.  I almost feel, what is the word, smug!   In our new, simpler, not-spending-money world order our decisions are made for us.  This Christmas is an example of the joy we received from simple togetherness...a-a-a-l-l-l Christmas break long.

In fact, there was so much staying-home togetherness being had that by the time we were in the car on Christmas Eve driving to a friend's house, we had a knock-down drag-out that ended with me demanding to be let out of the car and Beloved happily obliging.  I had a lot of time to think and came to quite a few conclusions walking those blocks that night.  Number one, the next time I decide to pitch a fit and storm out of the car I will not wear my YSL leopard print pumps as they are super uncomfortable.  Number two, we may not be perfect, but I like the way we are (I might put that on our Christmas card next year).  Yes, there is the occasional storming out of the car/house/bedroom/hotel room/ski slope/mother-in-law’s house in Florida/camping trip (a decision I regretted immediately), etc., but all in all, I love being with my darling family.  I know the boys feel the same way, unpleasant comments aside:

• “ I hate you” (from any child to any family member in vicinity)
• “Why do I have to spend 'time' with you!  There is nobody I’d rather not spend 'time'with” (Oldest to Beloved and me)
•  “Fat Ass” (I know what you’re thinking, but they value their life and would never say that to me, rather it is said incongruously to each other)
• “Shut up” (which I really take offense to.  In fact, I made a rule those words were absolutely not to be said in our home.  "Fat Ass" seemed somehow less offensive, especially when directed at someone other than myself.  Beloved helpfully suggested they say, “stop talking fast” instead, which I suppose addresses the letter if not the spirit of the law.)

I guess when it really hit me that I find comfort in our little family unit because of our imperfections, not in spite of them, was when Beloved did a little “soul-searching” (I know!) and went through a brief but disconcerting “friendly” phase.  He ran around doing alarming things like chatting in a pleasant manner to my friends when they called, or asking  Rosee, in a chirpy manner, “how are you doing?” wherein she immediately burst into tears and had to be talked out of  handing in her resignation on the spot.  It was a relief to us all when he came in one night and in horrified tones asked what on earth I was thinking  hanging Christmas wreaths on all of our windows (as if I had plastered the neighborhood with expensive nude photos of myself)!  The next day he hung up on Barb when she called because I wasn’t home, told Micki it “wasn’t his department” when she asked if we would like to come to dinner, and brushed right past Rosee not bothering to answer her pleasant “Good Evening” wherein she immediately started fingering her rosary beads in gratitude to her answered prayers. That was when we knew it was all going to be okay.