I wanted to tell this story because of Hilda's thread about bad gifts and Purple's humor.
This would be around 02/03 We were two kids in, and just learned the pregnancy my wife was thrilled about was not going to happen, the embryo was not taking and it ended up dying. We were shattered. But my wife was not going to give up. So we threw ourselves into life and let the dice land where they may.
So this was after my birthday when the entire families were preparing for a huge feast. Which was odd, as all 4 families usually did their own thing for the dinner, with my family popping from house to house in the eternal quest for the perfect level of full. So this was happening at my maternal grandmothers house, as it was asses to elbows busy. Me, my best friend and his wife, my dad and mom, my maternal grandmother, and Lush aunt. Oh, and my cousins who were paid to watch the babies. Should be simple for a Junior and Senior in high school to manage, right? Not this time. Now here is the problem. My uncles and aunts were coming, and the ladies were preparing a unified front for us men to go in their words "Finds something to fucking do." As they would be crashing there to make food, right up to Thanksgiving day. Uncle James, man was the coolest. He brought beer. Dad brought the ammo. I brought...a deck of cards and fishing pole. I failed as a man.
NOW I have to strictly advocate this. I do not condone under age drinking in any form. However, since this was 03, I was legal, baby! but my wife was not, and wouldn't be until spring.
What was going on in the house was not human. Nor had any honor in it.
I say that because, kids. Kids not being corralled properly by the people we paid to keep them from underfoot. They were fucking off on their job and my wife had to twice pull a grinning first born in the last days of her terrible two's off of her leg. Twice. Once would have been a yell to me to come rescue our daughter before she becomes a meal herself. But twice. My second daughter at almost two was an angel. She was playing with the same blocks I did when I was a baby, just having a grand old time with her cousins and such. My first born had to be in the middle of whatever mommy was doing that was not paying her any attention. Parents out there know that phase.
So I had taken up roost on my tailgate as we finished bringing my grandfathers old brick grill back to life. Not hard, but later we would need to redo the mortar and reset some bricks. Then the men tactically scattered, leaving me to take the brunt of orders and abuse from inside the house. The men wanted to fry up stuff for the ladies to try and help. Men, do not fall into that trap. It is nice of us to think were helping by doing something outside of the scope, but no we are not. We should stay out of the way, and help when asked, not go off half cocked (neat saying, about a rifle during the revolutionary war that had two settings, Half, which was technically the safety and full, which was primed and ready to fire.) to do something no one asked for. So these assholes left me holding a beer, a beer I had not even opened yet, when my wife looking like she was ready to murder the world, and get away with it on a technicality.
"Get your fucking cousins to watch the fucking kids, Nana almost slipped on spilled juice and we lost three pies to some hungry rug monsters."
It helped to motivate me that she was holding a large knife. It really did. Fellows, does that help motivate you too? So my grandmother had a pen for chickens. The coop was long gone, but the gated area wasn't. I grabbed up the kids, ten in total, and put them in the pen with a bunch of outdoor toys my grandmother kept. Then I grabbed the bench, and the two wayward cousins and sat them in the shade to watch them. It was cool outside, not chilly, but far from hot.
"Let them play and watch them until they start acting funny, and then round them up for lunch. After, put their little asses to nap in the guest bedroom."
I barked at them, noticing my wife slamming the beer I had and returning to work. Then my mom calls out to me. She wants to know where my dad went. I could have smarted off to her, but my mom had that no bullshit or die look too, so I honestly said they had something to do.
"Fuck that bastard, running off when I need him."
My mom cussed like a sailor when mad. So she handed me the list as everyone in the kitchen were yelling out more things they needed. I wrote quick and hard and soon with a wad of cash from my grandmother I was off to wally land to get the shit they needed. I also grabbed something for lunch for me and my wife, and kids stuff for snacks because the cousins could not be bothered to grab some crackers and cheese to give the ones who could eat them.
I am driving back and I see along the highway some trucks at the entrance to the old Hillsmans farm estate, now wooded over and swampy. I seen my dad among the large group of men holding rifles and laughing as a man unlocked the gate. My male family had left me to go boar hunting. What the fuck were they planning to do, spit roast an entire boar? So I kept on trucking, and smoking, because fuck it.
I get back, and the grill is on fire, not like started, but burning. My wife is slamming a glass of wine as my mom is finishing off her Boones farm. Nana is having a wonderful time, for all of her years of giving epic advice, she was pleased at the outcome.
Everyone is on the porch drinking, and watching their children in a cage. The two cousins are running around trying to blow noses. The grill is on fire, and the moment I pulled into the driveway, many pairs of eyes were on me, and it was not good.
They all rounded on me, as if I was the fifth coming of satan.
"WHY THE FUCK ARE OUR KIDS IN A CAGE?!?!?!?!"
I quietly unload the truck grabbed a cookie and ran.
They were not in a cage. my grandmother's yard is not fenced in. My daughters among the other toddlers can and will just walk the fuck off into the street if not properly contained. It was a 30x30 pen, and I distinctly remember being put in it when I was younger when there were a lot of kids.
I grab the hose and spray the "how the fuck can brick just burn like it was wood" fire when I learn the ladies wanted hamburgers for lunch and since the entirety of the kitchen was occupied, they noticed that we made the brick grill usable again. No one, no matter how many time we taught them, knew how to use the damned thing. My grandfather was probably laughing in the great beyond at them. So they use firewood to fuel it. My grandmothers house had a real fireplace. Why in Florida? I will never know.
Then they struck a match, and nothing happened. Then my wife remembered lighter fluid. Used an entire bottle of it. And on top of my aunt trying to extinguish the big fire with her everclear and wine drink, that is why the bricks are on fire. This is all happening as I was almost there.
I put the fire out. I removed the logs, and let the thing dry out. Outside of my grandmothers subdivision is an ACE hardware. I walk, go get charcoal and lighter fluid. next door was a not so great butchers shop. I buy preformed patties and buns.
I return, restart the grill properly, and cook lunch for everyone.
Even the kids who can eat solid foods.
Even the worthless cousins.
So after some time, the sun still up, the men return with stuff to grill. It looked like they did not do so well in hunting.
"Hey Writer, why is the grill hot?"
"Fuck off."
After that, they worked on dinner as the ladies stumbled through making desserts drunkenly. I was surprised that the desserts came out great.
I did get called out by my dad for putting his kids in the pen.
"Hey, asshole, I am your kid too."
"Naw, you were adopted."
This bombshell was dropped at the table. It would be topped next year by him telling the entire dinner party that my mom was pregnant, which she wasn't as she had her last kid before I graduated, and had her tubes tied. Everyone knew I was their legit kid, my mom has pictures of me at the hospital.