Car Talk With Gomer & AdolphaJen at PIWTPITT
My kids seem to talk more when we drive together in the car. This is when I learn a lot about what they’re thinking about. I’m pretty sure this is the craziest conversation I’ve had with my children…recently:
We had a 30 minute drive and Gomer and Adolpha started talking to each other. I’m not sure how the conversation got started, but by the time I figured out what they were talking about, I realized that somehow I have raised a femi-Nazi and Ward Cleaver.
Gomer: Adolpha, are you ever going to be a mommy?
Adolpha: No way.
Gomer: But why not? If you were a mommy I could be your kids’ uncle.
Gomer: So, it would be fun and we could live together with our kids.
Adolpha: No. I don’t want to be a mommy. Kids are too much work. I’m going to have a job and I won’t have time for kids…I will live with you though. (I’ve been hearing Adolpha say kids are too much work since she was 3. I have never said that to her and I’m not sure where she gets that – other than my haggard expression at the end of each day.)
Gomer: Hmm…I’m not sure my wife will want you to live with us.
Gomer: You know what? It’s OK. I’ll just tell my wife you’re going to live with us.
Me: Gomer, don’t you think you should ask your wife if your sister can live with you? You can’t just tell her what to do.
Gomer: Sure I can, Mom. I’m the daddy. The daddy makes the rules.
Me: Says who?
Gomer: I don’t know. I just know he does.
Me: Does your daddy make all the rules in our house?
Gomer: No. But….he should.
Me: Gomer! That’s not a healthy marriage….(I then went on a big speech about how marriage is a partnership, we work together, we make decisions together, we make “rules” together, blah, blah, blah.)
(I thought I’d change the subject and get Gomer off the topic of telling his wife the “rules of the house” and I was curious to know how many grandchildren I could expect someday.)
Me: Gomer, how many kids would you like?
Gomer: We’ll have five. Their names will be Jennifer, June, Joshua, Jack and John.
(No, he doesn’t watch The Duggars. He just has a limited imagination when it comes to his kids’ names. He has a mother named Jen, an Aunt June, an Uncle Josh, a Grandpa John and a friend named Jack.)
Me: Wow, five is a lot. I hope you’re ready to help your wife take care of all those children.
Gomer: No, my wife will take care of them all. She will stay home with them and be their mommy all the time. I will work two jobs if I have to just so my wife doesn’t have to work.
(This is not the example Gomer has been raised with and I’m not sure where he came up with this, but I held my tongue and waited for him to explain his rationale. I didn’t need to ask, Adolpha was on it.)
Adolpha: Your wife can have a job if she wants, Gomer!
Gomer: No. I want her home.
Adolpha: But what if she doesn’t want to be home? Mommy, can’t a mommy work at an office and be a mommy?
Me: Yes. But there are lots of mommies who choose to stay home with their kids and they make that their job – and they need the daddies to help, Gomer! It’s actually a very hard job, Adolpha!
Adolpha: Yes, I know. That’s why I don’t want that job.
Gomer: Adolpha, that will be your job if your husband says so.
(Seriously, Gomer?? What the hell?)
Adolpha: Then I won’t have a husband. I’ll just have boys who want to marry me, but I won’t want to marry them.
(Crap. Divert. Dirvert.)
Me: Hey now, that’s a long way off. We don’t need to decide all of this right now. Who wants to listen to Adele?
(And we drove the rest of the way in silence listening to “Rolling in the Deep” on a loop with me over-analyzing my conversation with a 5 year old femi-Nazi and a 7 year old Ward Cleaver. As Adele sang her little broken heart out all I could think was, Crap, crap, crap. How did this happen? We’ve been so focused on making Adolpha strong and independent, we’ve made her to no longer want children! And Gomer! Who the hell knows? Good thing this is all the Hubs’ department. I blame him – after all, he should be ruling our house.)
Be sure to read my daily rants at People I Want to Punch in the Throat where you’re sure to laugh and/or might be offended (it’s where you can find my R-rated rants).
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