dreaded parental conversations

Ever dreaded parental conversations? I don’t mean the ones parents have with children. Birds-and-bees. What death means.

Nope.

I mean conversations parents foist upon their hapless children, filling their brains with things they NEVER, EVER wanted to imagine, hear, or know.

Me: Mom, I’m really upset. A couple of my friends are splitting up.

Mom: Oh, that’s terrible news. What happened?

Me: The usual sad stuff, I guess. Poor communication. Growing apart. No sex in almost five years.

Mom: WHAT? Don’t they know that’s what Saturday morning cartoons are for???

Me: *shut down facetime as fast as possible and scrubbed brain*

Bugs Bunny will NEVER be the same.

Mom: Your daddy came in here the other night and asked me if I missed sex.

Me: STOP TALKING!

Dad: Tell her what you said, Linda.

Me: NO. PLEASE. I DON’T WANT—

Mom: I said, “YES!!!!!!!!!”

Dad: Tell her what I did then.

Me: *pounded iPad on floor until it almost broke*

Their calls have gone to voicemail
for a WEEK. ICK.

Dad: You sure looked good today, Linda.

Mom: *silence*

Dad: I saw how them men were looking at you, with your tight—

Me: WILL YOU STOP? YOU’RE GROSSING ME OUT, DAD!

My Brother: Well, you should be glad you don’t have to live with them.

Me: Why?

My Brother: Because they NEVER wear clothes. If Dad stands in my bedroom door naked one more time and scratches himself while he talks about football—

Me: How did I turn out normal?

Don’t answer, Dear Reader.
Instead, give us a crazy parental
anecdote in today’s comments.

******************

In the next two weeks, the audio version of Not Without My Father will be available! A special author interview! A Q & A with DAD! Almost seven hours of ME reading to YOU!

Click HERE to listen to the first chapter.

brother

Thank you to everyone who supported my brother and my parents during our recent crisis. Since I shared my brother’s situation, I’ve tried to respect his privacy.

I write about him today
because he could use continued encouragement.

A person may walk away from a suicide attempt. He may be told his body processed an overdose without any negative long-term impact to his overall health. He may hear over and over again, in therapy and at home, how much he matters.

He hasn’t given up. Doctors are adjusting his course of treatment. Next week, he’ll be evaluated for a program we both believe will help him heal.

Whether you’re the praying sort or the positive thoughts sort,
please reserve a space for him.

The mind is a tricky thing. It usually fixates on whether or not a life matters to specific people. When those people don’t care about a life, it’s easy to believe no one does.

Every life matters. Every. Life. Whether an individual thinks he matters is irrelevant. Every. Life. Matters. If you know my brother, once knew my brother, or are a stranger with a few seconds, I know he would appreciate that message in the coming days.

Thank you again to everyone who contacted my parents, my brother, and me. Thank you for the cards, letters, calls, visits, and messages of encouragement and hope. Thank you for the continued requests for additional information. While I don’t want to make multiple posts about a private matter, I believe it’s important to acknowledge the efforts of so many people. Thank you. Thank you. And thank you again.

During our last episode of F’ed Up Fantasy Family, I reported the gift of an iPad to my aging parents. They wanted access to FaceTime in a purported bid to follow new-ish extended family members.

I was convinced they would use FaceTime while naked.

I pondered the brain-bleaching consequences of Naked FaceTime With Aging Parents. For hours. And days. Experts claim one can banish worry by imagining the worst possible thing that can happen.

THAT ISN’T EFFING TRUE.

I haven’t slept since I gave my parents an iPad. Thanks to you, Dear Reader, I’ve imagined every conceivable scenario of shriveled, wrinkled, toilet-ridden, butt-dialing parental FaceTime nakedness. I had to do something to relieve the pressure, to rid myself of shrieking every time my iPhone/iPad/MacBookAir brayed another FaceTime request.

I decided to be the first Naked FaceTimer.
I would beat them at their own game.

If I called my parents from the bathtub, surely they would see how ridiculous I looked, and they wouldn’t try to copy me.

Here I am, FaceTiming my mother from the sanctuary of my guest bathroom.

naked facetime

(I’m the naked one in the upper right-hand corner, not the naked one taking up most of the screen.)

Sigh.

I guess she showed me.

*******

Read What Happened When I Gave My Parents an iPad HERE.