To:
Thomas Huckleberry
Subject:
Next Weekend?
* * *
Darling,
Why did your mother just call me and ask if you were coming to Branson this weekend to help her install her new computer and e-mail for her?
Dulcie
* * *
From:
Zelia Muzuwa
To:
“Green Eggs and Ham”
Subject:
Bad fight…
* * *
Tristan’s never been so mad at me before, and I’m not even sure what I did, exactly. He came home from work today and the children were doing interest projects—Seamus was looking at a piece of his scab under the microscope in the kitchen, Cosette was painting the alphabet in animal shapes on butcher paper in the dining room, and Griffith was building a fort with wooden blocks in the living room.
When Tristan walked into the house he looked a little grouchy, but he didn’t say anything—at all, not even hello. Just stomped upstairs to change his clothes. I figured he’d had a bad day at work. But when he came back down, he had what I call his “royal British fit” stance—nose in the air, chest expanded, hands clasped behind him. Always spells trouble…
“What shall we have for dinner?” he asks.
I respond that I hadn’t thought about it yet.
“Suppose we pretend we are having a picnic in the living room, since the kitchen and dining room seem to be otherwise…occupied.” Then he made a big show of checking the living room. “Oh, never mind. The living room is also rather disheveled, I see.”
“Why don’t you just get carryout tonight?” I must admit I wasn’t very interested in food. My children were engrossed in discovery of the world—Tristan was the only one who was hungry.
“As I did last night? And three nights before?”
I finally gave him my full attention. “What’s the matter, Tristan? You seem upset.”
That’s when he exploded! He was mad because the house was cluttered, dinner wasn’t ready, the children were a mess and I—as he put it—“lack structure and a sense of self-discipline and routine.”
Well, DUH! It took him nine years to figure that out?
Turns out, he doesn’t like my method of schooling. Thinks the kids should be in a formal educational environment. I reminded him we had already talked about that, and he had agreed that an institutional setting robs children of their natural curiosity and hunger to learn. He claims he hadn’t agreed with the ideas, he’d agreed to let me TRY them. Well, it sure seemed to me like he agreed with my philosophy, too!
“Cosette cannot read!” he griped.
“She’s only four and a half.”
“Griffith spends all his time building towers and crashing them with his cars.”
“Which is pretty much what he would do in preschool.”
“I want Seamus to know about the Empire, the Civil War, the…the Luddite Riots! When will he learn such important historical events?”
“When we move to England, dear.”
Now he was pouting. “I might have meant the American Civil War, you know.”
“But you didn’t.”
He couldn’t deny it. Instead, he waved a brochure in my face. I grabbed it—a slick, fancy advertisement for a slick, fancy private school. A BRITISH private school here in Baltimore, I might add.
He claims that this school’s method of education is far superior to what he calls “letting the kids run wild.” I keep telling him the proper term is “natural education,” but he won’t listen. Never in our nine years of marriage has he ever tried to pull some male chauvinist routine on me—even though I know his family raised him that way. But now, he’s claiming that “we tried your methods, and now it is time to correct the damage.” So without my consent, he’s planning to put Seamus in the first grade there, and Cosette and Griffith in the preschool.
How could he do this to me? I’ve done my very best with them, and he didn’t even give me a fair chance. I’m so mad I don’t even want to be in the same room with him. I’ve never felt so hurt in my whole life.
Z
* * *
From:
Thomas Huckleberry
To:
Dulcie Huckleberry
Subject:
Re: Next Weekend?
* * *
Hi Dulcie,
Sorry about the weekend—it sort of came up at the last minute. You know how we’ve been trying to talk Mom into getting a computer? Morris finally bought her one, but she doesn’t have anyone to help her install it. She also wants to e-mail us, so I’m going to set that up, too. You should be glad. Now she won’t have to call as often!
I know I was supposed to be home this weekend, but she needs my help. I’ll make it up to you.
Love,
Tom
* * *
From:
P. Lorimer
To:
“Green Eggs and Ham”
Subject:
Re: Bad fight…
* * *
Dear Zelia,
I’m sorry to hear about the altercation with Tristan. He really should have been more understanding and flexible. But I honestly don’t understand why you are so upset about the kids going off to school. You’ll have so much more free time—to do art, to spend with friends. Maybe even pursue a career if you want. There are days when I can only dream of that sort of freedom. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. And I know I shouldn’t gripe—my children are practically angelic. But Bennet is almost ten months old now and I have yet to get a complete night’s sleep in over a year and a half.
Julia is in the midst of a tantrum as I write this. In her room, lying on the floor, kicking and howling. And…throwing shoes, it sounds like, from the random thwacks on the walls. At least I hope it’s just shoes and not her head or something. Our “office” is the end of the hallway, right outside her door, so it’s very noisy. It’s because I told her we were not going to watch Veggie Tales this morning. It wasn’t because I didn’t want her to. Our Veggie videos are all worn out or broken, and there just isn’t money to replace them. The town is too small to have a video rental, and the folks at the library still think Captain Kangaroo is on television. I thought about trying to borrow a video from one of the other young families in the church, but then I remembered—we ARE the only young family at church.
I complain too much. Jonathan had a counseling session yesterday with a woman whose husband is abusing her. My sweetie is trying to help her see that she needs to take the children and get to a safe place, but she thinks “tomorrow” her husband will change. And I’m whining about worn-out videotapes.
Now Julia’s beating on the door with…a doll, I think. I can hear the eyes rattling in the head every time she yanks it back for another go. Why is it that there are no books on anger management for 2-year-olds?
I’m sorry, Zelia. I’ve just reread this letter and realized I’ve made it all about my problems instead of yours. I will pray for you and Tristan. Maybe God is creating a new path for you both.
Love,
Phyllis
* * *
From:
Dulcie Huckleberry
To:
Thomas Huckleberry
Subject:
Re: Next Weekend?
* * *
Tom,
You were supposed to help me clean the house this weekend! For Thanksgiving, remember? Everyone is going to be here in just over a week! What do you expect me to do—take care of it all on my own? Oh, wait, I do that all the time. Never mind, no problem.
Dulcie
* * *
From:
The Millards
To:
“Green Eggs and Ham”
Subject:
> Re: Bad fight…
* * *
Z,
Can’t write long—taking Tyler to the doctor to see why his leg is hurting. I’m getting worried. Just wanted to let you know I care and I hope you can work this conflict out with Tristan. Keep trying! I’ll be praying…
Jocelyn
* * *
From:
Thomas Huckleberry
To:
Dulcie Huckleberry
Subject:
This Weekend
* * *
Great—then you don’t need me anyway. Not that this comes as a huge shock to me. I always suspected it. My amazing wife—completely self-sufficient: needs nothing, wants nothing, accepts nothing. I guess I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.
Tom
* * *
From:
Dulcie Huckleberry
To:
Thomas Huckleberry
Subject:
Re: This Weekend
* * *
I absolutely REFUSE to comment on your e-mail. If you have something to say, you can come home and say it in person—what a concept! But I’m not going to carry on some dumb e-mail argument. Especially when you are deliberately twisting my words!
I do need you this weekend! I need you every weekend. You have no idea how long the weeks get without you around. I nearly kill myself trying to keep everything under control around here, so that when you come home, we can spend time with each other. But you take every opportunity to be gone!
So, no, I’m not going to respond to your e-mail. It was sarcastic and childish and completely out of context. I have nothing at all to say about it. But I do have needs and wants. And if you can’t see that, well, it’s not my fault.
I don’t want to discuss this in an e-mail, except to say that if that’s what you really think—you’re completely wrong.
And don’t you DARE comment about the house or dinner or anything for Thanksgiving. I’m not going to knock myself out trying to do everything by myself. I’ll get done what I can, and if it’s not how you like it, we both will know why. But I won’t go THERE right now—we really need to talk while you’re home. You WILL be home through the weekend, right?
Dulcie
* * *
From:
Thomas Huckleberry
To:
Dulcie Huckleberry
Subject:
Re: This Weekend
* * *
AUTOMATIC RESPONDER MESSAGE FOLLOWS: Hello,
Thank you for your e-mail. I will be out of the office November 20-21 and 25-26. I will make every effort to reply quickly when I return.
Sincerely,
Thomas Huckleberry, consultant
CorTech, Inc.
* * *
From:
J. Huckleberry
To:
Dulcie Huckleberry
Subject:
My First E-mail!!!
* * *
Dearest Dulcie, and McKenzie, Haley and Aidan,
This is your mother-in-law, Jeanine! If you are reading this, Tom has gotten my computer set up!!! I’m sending you my FIRST E-MAIL! I’m so excited!
Morris is reading over my shoulder and thinks I shouldn’t use so many exclamation points. But I can’t help it! I just told him it’s almost as exciting as when he first kissed me! Almost, but not quite! Now Tom, who is also reading over my shoulder, is acting all embarrassed at the idea of his mother kissing somebody! Grow up, Tom!!!
Morris and I are SO excited about coming for Thanksgiving! I can’t wait for you to meet him! I hope it wasn’t TOO much trouble to let Tom come this weekend. I’m sure you had a lot of things to do to get ready, and I stole away your help!
I have a surprise for you!!! Morris and I are going to come EARLY to help you get ready!!! We’ll be in around 8 Tuesday evening, and then we can spend all day on Wednesday helping you! You won’t have to worry about a thing! It’s just our way of saying thanks for letting Tom help me set up the computer. I’ve wanted a computer at home for AGES!!!
Morris says staring at a computer screen will make my eyes go bad, but I told him it doesn’t matter since I already wear contacts! Morris thinks we should buy a special filter for the screen, just in case, but I don’t want to spend money on something so boring!
Okay, I want to send this now! Give those precious honey-girls hugs from Memaw and Morris! We can’t wait to see them!!!
Love you so much!!!!!!!!!
Mom H.
* * *
From:
Zelia Muzuwa
To:
“Green Eggs and Ham”
Subject:
Bad fight continued
* * *
Hey gals,
Phyllis, you’d have to know Tristan to understand. He’s brilliant, classy, good-looking, perfectly organized and has a great career. Most days, I’m not even sure how we got together—I can’t organize an empty box, I’m flighty and I live on some artistic planet in a galaxy far, far away. Schooling the kids was, I guess, my one big chance to show him I’m competent in something that matters. Plus, I love having the kids around during the day. I don’t really want to get a job “on the outside”—I like being home! But he took away the three best reasons for being home, and stuck them in school. I’m going to miss out on watching Cosette learn to read. I won’t get to teach Griffith to tie his shoe or see Seamus’s eyes light up when he makes some new discovery about nature. Some teacher in a classroom is going to get PAID to see all those things I’d gladly witness for free. And I hate that idea!
I don’t know how to even approach it with Tristan—I’m still too angry. And he has all of next week off for Thanksgiving, so I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know we need to talk, but I don’t think the things I want to say right now would make God very happy.
Z
* * *
From:
Dulcie Huckleberry
To:
J. Huckleberry
Subject:
Re: My First E-mail!!!
* * *
Mom,
Congratulations on the e-mail. It came through just fine. I’m glad Tom was able to make it down to help you this weekend. Please don’t feel obligated to come early—it’s no big deal. Of course, we always love to see you. I’m looking forward to meeting Morris, too.
Love,
Dulcie
* * *
From:
Dulcie Huckleberry
To:
“Green Eggs and Ham”
Subject:
Panicking…
* * *
You guys, my mother-in-law is coming EARLY for Thanksgiving, and bringing her boyfriend with her! What am I going to do? Since Tom didn’t come home this weekend, I haven’t gotten the house cleaned yet, and I was counting on having all day Tuesday and then Wednesday, too, to finish things up, but now they’re arriving Tuesday evening! I won’t be ready on Tuesday! To make matters worse, MY mother wants to come over and help on Wednesday also. If there’s one thing you DON’T want the day before you host a huge family holiday, it’s my mom and Tom’s mom in the same house trying to “help.” Jeanine’s ideas are always wildly elaborate, and my mother prefers practicality and simplicity. Jeanine likes to talk, and…well, my mom likes to talk, too, except she actually expects to be HEARD, as well. And the last time they both were around the same kitchen, they got into a very POLITE argument about the best recipe for chocolate chip cookies. Not to mention the ongoing competition to see who is the most popular gr
andma with the girls!
I can’t do this! It’s bad enough that I’m single-handedly putting Thanksgiving together. I can’t referee my relatives, too!
It’s been a horrible, no-good, very bad week all around. Z, I’m so sorry to hear about things with Tristan. I wish I could give you some good advice or something, but I don’t seem to be able to keep things on an even keel with Tom, so anything I’d say would be the height of hypocrisy. Jocelyn, let me know what you find out about Tyler’s leg. I hope he’s okay. Phyllis, take it from me—stock up on dolls. After their heads get banged off so many times, they don’t snap back on anymore.
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