- I do not make enough food at every meal to feed an extra couple of people, “just in case”.
- I tend to shy away from the phrase, “Bless his heart.”
- I turn electronic things on and I turn them off. I do not “cut them off”. The electric company does that if I don’t pay my bill.
- I don’t play helpless if I think it’ll get me something extra.
- I curse loudly.
- I burp like a trucker.
- I think farts are funny.
My mom was one of 11 children, 7 of which were brothers. They lived in farm country. It’s no surprise that my mom (and all of my aunts) are very much tomboys. It’s no surprise that I am as well, having been raised by one. How my sister turned out to be somewhat girlie is beyond me. However, she still doesn’t wear a dress very often. Part of that tomboy lifestyle is ingrained in her as well.
My mom leans a little in her chair when she has to fart, to let it out, excuses herself and goes back to doing whatever she was doing. Even if it’s in the middle of dinner. When you grow up one of eleven, if you get up from the table for anything, you had no food left on your plate when you returned.
My dad is a, “Did you hear that barking spider? Listen close, his brother is coming!” kind of guy. He also never tires of games such as “pull my finger”. Even as an adult, I’ll oblige him, as it is just one of those things I never really got to do with him as a kid. Plus, it makes him smile.
My husband is the opposite. He has an ideal of how a lady behaves. She shouldn’t belch louder than her husband. She shouldn’t talk about farts. She shouldn’t fart. Men shouldn’t fart in front of a lady. He cuts on lights, and cuts them off too. He’s more of a Southern Lady than I am. Again, that comes from his upbringing.
His mother is an extremely kind and generous woman, almost to a fault. I wish she would learn to say, “no” to people more often. She always has enough food to feed an army, and their friends should they bring them to supper. When she curses during speech, it tends to be at a lower volume than the rest of the sentence. I don’t know how she feels about burping and farting, but Jerry got his ideal about them from SOMEONE, and I don’t ever see her leaning in her chair during a meal.
I often wonder which way Josh will turn out.
Will he be more like his Daddy as he grows up, and be as gentlemanly as possible? Will he open the doors for ladies? Will he always remember to lift the seat? Will he make an effort to actually pee in the toilet, not on it? Will he leave empty cereal boxes in the cupboard?
Or will he turn out to be more crude, like his mom?
The other night in the tub, Josh called me in to investigate what, on his butt, hurt. I couldn’t see anything, and he said, “in my crack. That’s where!” Do I told him to bend over a little. He did and I could see a pimple.
He stood up so fast that I could barely see if that’s all that was there and so I told him to bend a little again. He did and then said, “I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?” I said as I was looking to be sure it was just a little pimple.
It was then that the fruit of my loins farted in my face. Then, he laughed. My response? “Nice one, son. A little more warning next time, please. What do you say?”
He pauses for a moment, as if he doesn’t know that while I think farts are funny, I think they do require tact, dignity and, above all, manners. He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and says, “THAT was FUNNY!”
He let out a deep sigh, as if I had just defeated him in a heated game of ‘Go Fish!’ that he thought he was going to win. “Excuse me for farting in your face.” And then, he giggled some more.