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Let's Panic: The Book!

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How to Endure and Possibly Triumph Over the Adorable Tyrant
who Will Ruin Your Body, Destroy Your Life, Liquefy Your Brain,
and Finally Turn You
into a Worthwhile
Human Being.

Written by Alice Bradley and Eden Kennedy

Some Books
I'm In...

Sleep Is
For The Weak

Chicago Review Press

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Let's Panic

The site that inspired the book!

At LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES, Eden Kennedy and I share our hard-won wisdom and tell you exactly what to think and feel and do, whether you're about to have a baby or already did and don't know what to do with it. → 

« Also, I have no iridescent plumage. | Main | Deck the halls! »

All bets are off. Watch out!

We’re all at my sister’s house, for Father’s Day. My nice sister has a pool. A beautiful, in-ground pool, and every time I see it, I wonder why the hell we don’t live next door to her. But I digress. My mother is wading in the shallow end, while Henry splashes about with his father. I’m sitting on the edge, dangling my legs into the pool. My mother, who feels it is her duty to evaluate my appearance on a regular basis, is glaring at my toes. She considers neglect of one’s parts not only ill-advised but immoral, and here is evidence of my lapsed spirituality--bits of nail polish clinging for dear life to my neglected tootsies. She’s clutching my foot, menacing my poor toes like she could frighten them into enameled, manicured perfection.

Her [disgusted]: It’s a shitty color.

Me: Gee, thanks. I liked the color.

Her: I can’t wear pink. Pink looks terrible on me.

Me: Yeah, see, these aren’t your toes.

Her: Pink. Horrible.

Me: I know. You like to wear gold, or whatever, but’s that not me.

Her [offended]: I do not wear gold. My toes are painted pearl white.

She hoists a leg out of the water and thrusts her foot into my face, just as Henry announces that he needs me. A few minutes later, order is restored, and we’re all back to our original positions.

Her: I can’t believe you said my toes were gold.

Me: You’re upset about that? You called my toes shitty.

Her: I did not say shitty. I would not say shitty to you. I said crappy.

Yeah, I know, it’s not much of a story. It more or less sums up all that confounds me about the woman, is all, and I swore I wouldn’t use my blog to write about my family, but here I am, doing it. Anyway, rules are made to be broken, and me, I’m a rule-breaker. I am dangerous.

Reader Comments (28)

My mom loves to forget she told me something and gets angry when I don't do it.

My parents' quotes of the year last year, quipped as I was walking out the door to go on a road trip, wearing a spaghetti strap tank top:DAD "What is this Tits Across America?" and before I could get my jaw closed MOM "LARRY! she's trying to find a husband"

June 24, 2004 | Unregistered CommenterWindyLou
Huh... I'm not sure my mother would notice if I showed up to meet her for dinner wearing an elephant boa and a sea-shell bra.

But given the critques listed, I guess there is an advantage to not being noticed.
June 28, 2004 | Unregistered Commenterwookie
My mother sent me an email today in which she complained about how she hates it when her friend criticizes her granddaughter. Then she followed with how she believes you shouldn't criticize a child because that will cause them to become insecure.

I so desperately want to email her back and ask if she remembers all of our "conversations" where she asks me when I'm going to lose some weight or all of the pamplets she sends me about weight loss/therapy/quitting smoking. But I know what the answer would be...I'm too sensitive or she never said that.

I thought I was the only one. I'm glad to know I'm not.
July 9, 2004 | Unregistered CommenterDM

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