We bicker. A lot. Some (Abby) more than others, but we all do it to some extent. The breakdown looks something like this:
Alex and Abby – 53% of all Iseminger bickering
Me, explaining to Dan why he’s wrong – 28%
Abby plus any member of our house other than Alex – 16%
Alex plus me and/or Dan – 2.5%
Cal – 0.5%
We’ve taken it to an art form (with not a drop of Italian blood in our veins). We bicker about everything from who had the hardest Math24 cards to who most often pours milk for dinner; who always has to take the first shower to ‘why does Abby get to wear a shirt with smack talk on it when we can’t?’ (I’m not ok with my kids wearing shirts with sayings like, ‘Legend in the Making’ or ‘Get Ready to be Second’ yuck, just yuck. But I did buy Abby a shirt that read, ‘Girls can do anything boys can do, only better’. I guess it was trash talking but it seemed ok somehow… Yep, shoulda seen that one comin’ – the shirt created sizable discord).
It seems most of our bickering goes on in the car. Could be because we are in the car so much – 3 kids who play lots of sports and a mom who doesn’t cook… we are constantly driving to a game or restaurant.
Case in point… last fall we were headed to Chambersburg for Cal’s late-afternoon baseball game; the 5 of us were ready ahead of schedule (this is completely unheard of, btw) and sat in the car waiting for Pop. We passed the time bickering about where we’d eat after (talk about summing up our car sparring in one 7-minute showdown – arguing about a post-game dinner…). Pop showed up and got himself situated in the car, completely unaware of the squabbling that had gone on before his arrival; Cal looked over and asked, “Soooo… what did you do today, Poppa?” Pop sighed then said, “Well, I spent most of the day taking quaaludes so I could handle this car ride with you 5…”
The bickering found its prominence in Iseminger lore 2 years ago on Pop’s birthday. I can’t even remember where we took him for dinner but we loaded up and got into it pretty good. The kids were scrappin’ over who always has to get into the 3rd row which evolved into the inevitable, “Abby is the favorite ’cause she’s the baby.” This worked itself into all of the wrongs faced by my poor underprivileged, deprived children… By the grace of God we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. The only thing heard over the kids’ caterwauling was me griping, “Why in the hell would you park here? Don’t you see those other spots? Why are you wedging between cars when 10 feet further there’s a slew of open spaces?” Dan was snipping back about never doing anything right and then… we heard something…. all 5 of us quit running our mouths to better hear the barely audible singing… “Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me….”
From that point forward it has been understood in our family – the bickering on any given day belongs to the person who last celebrated a birthday. Pop revels in the fact he has it the longest… he’s a May birthday with Abby next, in October. I find it ironic that Abby – the bickerer extraordinaire – enjoys the gift of strife for only 3 days until my birthday slides in unnoticed (I get the arguing and whatever birthday cake is left over from her party… poor karen).
On Sunday morning, with Pop’s birthday coming up we thought we’d give him a little taste of what’s to come. It was early as Alex had to be at the fields by 8:30 and the park is about an hour drive away; we stopped at Dunkin Donuts for coffee and a sugar high. We piled into the car, Dan started her up and off we went. I looked at him and said, “You think you could buckle your seat belt so I don’t have to listen to that friggin’ DING DING DING all the way over the mountain?” Then the girls, who were sharing 25 donut holes, started, “I wanted chocolate!” “You said you didn’t want chocolate!” “I don’t want chocolate!” “What??????” “You better not eat all of the other flavors!” “Do you want chocolate?” “What did you say? I need to figure something out?” “Nothing” “No! WHAT did you SAY?” “Nothingggggggggg.” “No I’m not mad I just need to know what you said…”
“SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU”
“I need to know what she said so I can figure something out.” “She said she got you chocolate.” “I don’t want chocolate – they are NASTY.” “Well how did I know you didn’t like the chocolate?” “Great now there’s all these chocolate, do NOT eat alla the other flavors.”
“SHUT.”
“UP.”
We rode for 5 minutes in silence – each of us wondering why in the hell we agreed to ride along…. then I heard Abby ask dad if he wanted a donut hole. “Hmmmm… maybe…. do you have any chocolate?” Yeah, he’s a shit stirrer.
Today… on Pop’s 67th birthday, we present to him – the gift of Iseminger:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
The bickering now goes
From Alex to you!
Love, love love!