Sometimes I wonder what it’s going to be like when my kids are all grown up and visit me with their families. Will they learn to accept Ryan Gosling as my new significant other or will they continue to be starstruck in his presence?
I know I’m being presumptuous. I mean, there’s no guarantee that I will be acquitted of the murder charges that will certainly be pending against me if my husband buys the whole milk instead of the 2% one more time. I’m pretty confident in my defense, but juries can be unpredictable.
But assuming things work out, I wonder what our visits will be like. Will there be grandkids? Will they want to look at the photo albums that I have of my children? (reminder to self: shove photos into albums.) You just never know. But it’s nice to think about.
I thought about it a lot when we visited my parents past Sunday. It was Russian Orthodox (Mama’s faith) Easter and we celebrated at my parents’ apartment. We hardly ever go there, all our visits are either at the dacha or at our place, but it was nice to be in their Queens apartment.
At some point one of my kids needed a tissue and Mama brought out a box. “Do you recognize this?” she asked me meaningfully.
It was a box of Kleenex, with a drawing of a bunny in some grass. Maybe more than one bunny, truth be told, but none of them looked familiar.
I shook my head. (Adorably.)
“You sure?” she asked, pushing the box closer to me, as Papa said “not now” in a hushing tone.
Obviously I had to eat the Russian Orthodox Easter lunch as quickly as possible so that I could get to the bottom of the tissue box mystery.
I asked her about the tissues and Mama said that when I broke up with my boyfriend Paul (circa 1994, if I remember correctly) and he was moving out of my apartment, I came to stay temporarily with my parents and I was crying and brought that box of tissues.
Mama seemed surprised that I didn’t remember this event.
So, a few questions.
WHY DID THEY KEEP THIS BOX? (Mama said they don’t use tissues because “my nose doesn’t run because I know how to take care of myself” and Papa uses a handkerchief.) Subquestion: IF THEY DON’T USE TISSUES, WHY DIDN’T THEY THROW OUT THIS BOX INSTEAD OF KEEPING IT AS SOME SORT OF AN INSANE RELIC?
and also: DID THEY REALLY THINK I WOULD REMEMBER THIS BOX OF TISSUES?!
But it also made me realize–the gauntlet has been thrown. How can I possibly top this for when my own kids come to visit me?
I knew I should have held on to that placenta. I’ll have to check on ebay.