Home of The Strange - Parte Deux
by Renata Vallazza on Saturday, August 25, 2007 at 9:49am
Designs To Die For
It never fails. Every single time I come home to visit (meaning Kansas City) there's always something new to see. And I don't mean by city sights. I mean at my parents house.
As usual with coming home for a visit, this visit was set up quickly and was very unplanned. I had mentioned one day to my mother that I was merely "thinking" about coming to visit i.e. - get the rest of my stuff out of their house and haul it back to Florida. I even told my mother, "Now before you get super excited and jump out of your skin, I'm only THINKING of coming to visit. I'm not really sure if I can get that time off or even afford a ticket"
Well, saying something like that to your mother, especially when you're pregnant and she wants to see you that way before you give birth, is a big mistake.
For almost a complete month, practically every day whenever we'd talk on the phone it was, "So...have you made your reservation yet? Have you made your reservation yet? Are you coming? Why haven't you taken time off work? WHY WHY WHY????!!!!!"
I finally got fed up of answering the same question over and over again and shouted, "FINE!!!!!! I GUESS I'LL COME!!!!!"
I arrived Friday and immediately my mother pounced on the idea of throwing a baby shower for me during the weekend.
My whole purpose for coming home was only to stay the weekend, see my family and to get most of my stuff before the baby came just so that I wouldn't have to drive the same distance yet again while pregnant. I'm sick of moving my stuff. For 21 years, I lived in the same house and then moved for the first time in my life only 3 years ago. I've moved 7 times since then. Don't you think I'm tired of moving my stuff around? I pity some of my sisters, who are always moving from Point A to Point B to Point X and then back again. I have to say I admire them for putting up with that. But I guess that's what comes with the territory of having the opportunity to live in nice places.
I went into The Room Formerly Known As Mine to discover, actually with very little surprise, that it has become a walk in closet for my mom's collection of baskets, basket trees, white tank tops and tees, white tennis shoes and old computers. Also, my father's ever growing collections of old records, VHS, DVD, and tape decks took up one corner of the room. My father thinks one of the most amazing things in the world is to go to Wal-mart and find movies for under $5, regardless of who is starring in it or not. The movie could be an Grade F movie about aliens sucking human brains out with glass-blowing tubes and he would not care - the fact that it was $1.78 (including tax) is a hands down bargain!
Now of course, I have added to that clutter in my old room, but my things are put away nicely in large plastic bins or suitcases. But I also noticed that I have a lot of junk too. I proceeded to throw away a lot of papers from college and all sorts of other things. I have a lot of books from college as well as other language paraphernalia. I have dictionaries in 6 different languages that I want to bring down to Florida, but I can't do that until I can get my house in order. IA and I just ordered furniture that won't arrive until September so I guess I'll just have to come back another time.
Last night, my mom was discussing the baby shower plans with me and asking me all sorts of questions such as "Where is everyone going to sit?"
This is a question that comes up frequently whenever more than two people come to visit. I'm being serious too.
My parents lack of space is due to the fact that there are dog toys, books, hats, movies, more books and God knows what else in that house. Every single time I come home, I kid you not, the house looks smaller and smaller. Take the kitchen for example. My parents have a table in there and there is only room for one person to sit at the table and that's so you can be wedged in between the wall and the fridge. You have to pray to God that you're skinny enough to fit in between the edge of the table and the fridge door. Of course, since I have a pregnant belly, that defeats the purpose. It's just so nice to stand at the counter and eat when there's a table close by!
The couch cushions seem to have shrunk since I moved away because now there are two small little pillows that are wedged between the cushions in order keep your butts covered or otherwise, you'll be sitting on the car magazines my father has stashed under the seat. Or perhaps also, a random dog toy.
In my mom's office, where I sit right now typing, I look around me and I see lots of genealogical stuff since that's my mom's passionate hobby. There are family tree books thrown every where. The last time I was here, I suggested that I buy my mom an office desk set so that she could have room to spread out her documents and trees and I would organize it for her. You know what she said to me - "Oh, hun, I'm organized! See?" If having your printer/scanner in an inaccessible place is convenient and having your printer paper in a box in the closet under shoes is organized and convenient, you have problems.
Mom was going through her linen closet and I asked her where the bed sheets were since I was going to be sleeping on the ever famous couch. "Oh, I don't know, they're there somewhere"
All I saw were towels and bars of soap that she's replenished since giving me her arsenal of soap two years ago. She was opening boxes that contained doilies in order to decorate the house for the horde of people that were coming to the baby shower. She opened a box that had a black stamp of "Spiced Berries".
"Here," she said as she handed it to me, "I don't know what this is"
"This" was a decorative plate with hearts that I bought for my mom at the candle shop I used to work at five years ago. Knowing my mother's penchant for heart shaped things, I bought it for her thinking she would use it. Yeah. Right.
"Mom, this is pretty! Why don't you hang it on the wall? It has a pretty ribbon you can decorate it with" I was thinking about putting it in the dining room since there's a lot of wall space there.
My mom looked at me over her glasses. On what wall? she asked. We don't have wall space, she said.
I looked around at all the stuff on the walls, which was now mostly covered with pictures of my sisters and I during our childhood along with pictures of their kids. I also noticed some really ugly wall hanging of what I think is a dandelion or some weedy plant that I find growing in my backyard in Florida. I had forgotten about that hideous picture since it was tucked away in the hallway leading to the bathroom.
"Mom, why don't you get rid of this one? The seventies are calling - they want their dandelion back"
My mom laughed at me and said no. She got it a garage sale in the seventies when she lived in Virginia and it held sentimental value. I could understand "sentimental value" if it were a dish or a item of jewelry that perhaps your grandmother received from your grandfather, etc. But that?! Well, whatever..... at least I got the era right.
This morning, I awoke to the sounds of my father clodding around the house and talking to the dogs. Since I can't sleep after I've been rudely awakened, I got up and sat in the kitchen talking to my dad about my life. Since it was 6 am and I was hungry and needed to feed my child, I opened up the fridge to see what kind of food there was to eat. My father began to complain that my mother doesn't know she buys and it rots.
He then went to a crisper drawer and pulled out a candy bar.
"you want this? You eat it now and your mother won' find out about eet (it). I haf (have) to hide dees (this) stuff because your mother eat stuff dat (that) she not supposed to eat."
He then proceeded to give me some of his BBQ sandwich, part of which he was taking to work with him. Which was yummy - nothing better than Gates BBQ sauce!
As my father was walking out the door, he gave me explicit instructions on how to feed the dogs (I have to sit on the floor and coax the dogs to eat); no one - not even the grandkids - are allowed to go into the back rooms, the porch, or the backyard - as "it's going to rain", etc, etc.
I kept thinking how odd those instructions were, but what have you....
My parents, (i.e - my father) have decorated the bathroom with some metal and wicker "ivy" baskets. Meaning - my father has bored a hole in the wall with a LARGE philips head screw (that has been stripped nonetheless) and tacked the basket up in a strange place on the wall, right next to the air conditioning vent. That's almost 6 feet high up on the wall. Apparently, as my mother puts it - that's where the clean wash cloths go now. Hmmm, I think to myself, my parents have GREAT taste when it comes to decorating.
At my house in Florida, there's not much on the walls except maybe in the kitchen and in the new bathroom. Which of course leaves a lot for the imagination.
At least I'm grateful in knowing that I won't have ugly pictures or otherwise philips head screws jutting out of walls to wink at me.
Can't wait to go home and decorate. =)
It never fails. Every single time I come home to visit (meaning Kansas City) there's always something new to see. And I don't mean by city sights. I mean at my parents house.
As usual with coming home for a visit, this visit was set up quickly and was very unplanned. I had mentioned one day to my mother that I was merely "thinking" about coming to visit i.e. - get the rest of my stuff out of their house and haul it back to Florida. I even told my mother, "Now before you get super excited and jump out of your skin, I'm only THINKING of coming to visit. I'm not really sure if I can get that time off or even afford a ticket"
Well, saying something like that to your mother, especially when you're pregnant and she wants to see you that way before you give birth, is a big mistake.
For almost a complete month, practically every day whenever we'd talk on the phone it was, "So...have you made your reservation yet? Have you made your reservation yet? Are you coming? Why haven't you taken time off work? WHY WHY WHY????!!!!!"
I finally got fed up of answering the same question over and over again and shouted, "FINE!!!!!! I GUESS I'LL COME!!!!!"
I arrived Friday and immediately my mother pounced on the idea of throwing a baby shower for me during the weekend.
My whole purpose for coming home was only to stay the weekend, see my family and to get most of my stuff before the baby came just so that I wouldn't have to drive the same distance yet again while pregnant. I'm sick of moving my stuff. For 21 years, I lived in the same house and then moved for the first time in my life only 3 years ago. I've moved 7 times since then. Don't you think I'm tired of moving my stuff around? I pity some of my sisters, who are always moving from Point A to Point B to Point X and then back again. I have to say I admire them for putting up with that. But I guess that's what comes with the territory of having the opportunity to live in nice places.
I went into The Room Formerly Known As Mine to discover, actually with very little surprise, that it has become a walk in closet for my mom's collection of baskets, basket trees, white tank tops and tees, white tennis shoes and old computers. Also, my father's ever growing collections of old records, VHS, DVD, and tape decks took up one corner of the room. My father thinks one of the most amazing things in the world is to go to Wal-mart and find movies for under $5, regardless of who is starring in it or not. The movie could be an Grade F movie about aliens sucking human brains out with glass-blowing tubes and he would not care - the fact that it was $1.78 (including tax) is a hands down bargain!
Now of course, I have added to that clutter in my old room, but my things are put away nicely in large plastic bins or suitcases. But I also noticed that I have a lot of junk too. I proceeded to throw away a lot of papers from college and all sorts of other things. I have a lot of books from college as well as other language paraphernalia. I have dictionaries in 6 different languages that I want to bring down to Florida, but I can't do that until I can get my house in order. IA and I just ordered furniture that won't arrive until September so I guess I'll just have to come back another time.
Last night, my mom was discussing the baby shower plans with me and asking me all sorts of questions such as "Where is everyone going to sit?"
This is a question that comes up frequently whenever more than two people come to visit. I'm being serious too.
My parents lack of space is due to the fact that there are dog toys, books, hats, movies, more books and God knows what else in that house. Every single time I come home, I kid you not, the house looks smaller and smaller. Take the kitchen for example. My parents have a table in there and there is only room for one person to sit at the table and that's so you can be wedged in between the wall and the fridge. You have to pray to God that you're skinny enough to fit in between the edge of the table and the fridge door. Of course, since I have a pregnant belly, that defeats the purpose. It's just so nice to stand at the counter and eat when there's a table close by!
The couch cushions seem to have shrunk since I moved away because now there are two small little pillows that are wedged between the cushions in order keep your butts covered or otherwise, you'll be sitting on the car magazines my father has stashed under the seat. Or perhaps also, a random dog toy.
In my mom's office, where I sit right now typing, I look around me and I see lots of genealogical stuff since that's my mom's passionate hobby. There are family tree books thrown every where. The last time I was here, I suggested that I buy my mom an office desk set so that she could have room to spread out her documents and trees and I would organize it for her. You know what she said to me - "Oh, hun, I'm organized! See?" If having your printer/scanner in an inaccessible place is convenient and having your printer paper in a box in the closet under shoes is organized and convenient, you have problems.
Mom was going through her linen closet and I asked her where the bed sheets were since I was going to be sleeping on the ever famous couch. "Oh, I don't know, they're there somewhere"
All I saw were towels and bars of soap that she's replenished since giving me her arsenal of soap two years ago. She was opening boxes that contained doilies in order to decorate the house for the horde of people that were coming to the baby shower. She opened a box that had a black stamp of "Spiced Berries".
"Here," she said as she handed it to me, "I don't know what this is"
"This" was a decorative plate with hearts that I bought for my mom at the candle shop I used to work at five years ago. Knowing my mother's penchant for heart shaped things, I bought it for her thinking she would use it. Yeah. Right.
"Mom, this is pretty! Why don't you hang it on the wall? It has a pretty ribbon you can decorate it with" I was thinking about putting it in the dining room since there's a lot of wall space there.
My mom looked at me over her glasses. On what wall? she asked. We don't have wall space, she said.
I looked around at all the stuff on the walls, which was now mostly covered with pictures of my sisters and I during our childhood along with pictures of their kids. I also noticed some really ugly wall hanging of what I think is a dandelion or some weedy plant that I find growing in my backyard in Florida. I had forgotten about that hideous picture since it was tucked away in the hallway leading to the bathroom.
"Mom, why don't you get rid of this one? The seventies are calling - they want their dandelion back"
My mom laughed at me and said no. She got it a garage sale in the seventies when she lived in Virginia and it held sentimental value. I could understand "sentimental value" if it were a dish or a item of jewelry that perhaps your grandmother received from your grandfather, etc. But that?! Well, whatever..... at least I got the era right.
This morning, I awoke to the sounds of my father clodding around the house and talking to the dogs. Since I can't sleep after I've been rudely awakened, I got up and sat in the kitchen talking to my dad about my life. Since it was 6 am and I was hungry and needed to feed my child, I opened up the fridge to see what kind of food there was to eat. My father began to complain that my mother doesn't know she buys and it rots.
He then went to a crisper drawer and pulled out a candy bar.
"you want this? You eat it now and your mother won' find out about eet (it). I haf (have) to hide dees (this) stuff because your mother eat stuff dat (that) she not supposed to eat."
He then proceeded to give me some of his BBQ sandwich, part of which he was taking to work with him. Which was yummy - nothing better than Gates BBQ sauce!
As my father was walking out the door, he gave me explicit instructions on how to feed the dogs (I have to sit on the floor and coax the dogs to eat); no one - not even the grandkids - are allowed to go into the back rooms, the porch, or the backyard - as "it's going to rain", etc, etc.
I kept thinking how odd those instructions were, but what have you....
My parents, (i.e - my father) have decorated the bathroom with some metal and wicker "ivy" baskets. Meaning - my father has bored a hole in the wall with a LARGE philips head screw (that has been stripped nonetheless) and tacked the basket up in a strange place on the wall, right next to the air conditioning vent. That's almost 6 feet high up on the wall. Apparently, as my mother puts it - that's where the clean wash cloths go now. Hmmm, I think to myself, my parents have GREAT taste when it comes to decorating.
At my house in Florida, there's not much on the walls except maybe in the kitchen and in the new bathroom. Which of course leaves a lot for the imagination.
At least I'm grateful in knowing that I won't have ugly pictures or otherwise philips head screws jutting out of walls to wink at me.
Can't wait to go home and decorate. =)
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