Two Shows on Sundays

 

THE REAL FAMILY CIRCUS

    It started when my mother met my father, in fact if you want to get technical it happened a long time before that, but I am not a technical person so I am telling you how it all started for my immediate family.

    Whenever I would ask my father as a young girl (still cute, pre head gear) how he met my mother it didn't turn into the witty retelling in a sitcom fashion, it turned into “When the Ukrainian Prince met the English Princess" (for long time I thought there were Ukrainian Princes out there for me, who knows, maybe there still are...)

    The real story of how my parents met, is far more interesting than the Prince rescuing the Princess one my father told me. What I love most about this story, is that my mother and father to this day do not agree on the details of how they met.

    They both agree that they met in a school during the summer, both home from University working summer jobs. My mom was working with children in the school and my father working on the labour of the school.

    As far as I once knew, they never really noticed each other. Thanks to a trip to Chicago with my dad and too many beer on a night out together (just the two of us, golden opportunity) I now know that my dad and his all male crew had noticed my mother from a distance (note: my mom loves Bette Middler and that song)

    There are some genetics you can celebrate in life, and I do, since my mom has huge cans. They got attention (I'm sure they still do but I shutter at the thought). The difference from her to me is that I  mostly need a bra for both my front and back boobs, she at this time, was a beanpole with melons.

    My dad saw my mom and noticed her, and from my mom's side, she had noticed my dad as well (must have been the sideburns). They had briefly talked a few times and I'm told were flirty. My mom tells me the first time she really noticed my father, he was acting rather odd.

    Surprise surprise.

    My mom said it was a sunny summer morning, and she was reading to pre school children a lovely story in the classroom. As I imagine it, the sun was gleaming in the window as my mother read, and my father hid in the background painting (which nowadays would not be allowed in a classroom full of children due to our many, many phobias about children exposed to anything).

    She said as she read she looked up to make eye contact with the room full of young children. She scanned the room noticing at the back of the group, behind the small children, was a full grown man sitting crossed legged on the floor.  My father sat, holding his paintbrush, and listening to her story with a serious look on his face.

    My mom didn't know what to do, she could feel herself wanting to giggle as she looked out upon the faces of the children staring back; unaware that behind them sat a very special man, joining in on story time.

    She did what she could to repress the humour, and asked him “are you enjoying the story?”
   
    I guess this is called the mating dance of the not yet proved criminally insane (sounds like a Monty Python Skit). It worked, what Nor Anderson did so many years back, actually freaking worked, because they are still happily (holidays exempt) married.

    Within twenty four hours, they found themselves back at the school alone in the hallway. My mother was child free and my father painting the walls. They agree they were flirting, they agree there was paint involved, and that is where their mutual agreement ends.

    From my fathers side of the story, he was painting the walls up on a ladder, working away, and minding his own business, while my mother was distracting him with her flirting. My mother says they were both flirting, and she was also minding her way around his work area. The end result, is my parents in a bathroom with my mom's head in the sink trying to get the paint out of her hair.

    Before your mind starts going places, this story is rate PG. My mom claims they got close at one moment, and my dad painted her head on purpose. My dad states clearly that he was painting, and my mom walked herself into the brush, on purpose.

    I've racked my brain over this story for years, and with what I know, my conclusion, is that they both wanted to make some form of contact. The only reasonable idea apparently present,  was to use the paint to get closer. This would mean they both came to this conclusion separately, which scares me. But hey, why not? Why start a conversation or flirt with each other using silly jokes when you can simply get right too it, and get painted.

    That is the logic they were working with before the met, never-mind my dad's earlier classroom shenanigans, and by some miracle the courts and church allowed them to holy matrimony their lives together. Maybe it was a Monday morning or Friday afternoon when they allowed this, but the end result is two silly nitwits in wedded bliss, who then went on to bring children into the madness.

    My sister and I inherited the backwards way my parent's minds work, and my sister went ahead and got married to someone of equal decision making. The cycle continues and there you have it, it started with ludicrous, and it has trickled down into my life since the stork dropped me at their door.

    At any pivotal or memorable moment in life, my family has used odd tactics to obtain things (like emotional response) and their methods are as off as their minds. Which in reality makes sense.