As always, if you'd like to use this space to tell stories/secrets/confessions of your dangerous maternal (or paternal!) mind, send me an e-mail and you too can enjoy the refuge of the Basement...
There comes a time in every woman's life when she is forced to realize the truth. And in truth, what she finds is something she herself covered with layers of paint to hide its ugliness.
Upon hearing the compliment, "your daughter's speech is astounding," my husband quickly explained she'd been with his mother for a week. "She's an English teacher."
It doesn’t matter that his daughter's mother -– his wife, I might add --is a writer, nor does it matter that her daycare provider of the last two and a half years is a former English teacher as well. It doesn’t even take into account his daughter has some talents of her own.
"Well, I'm an English teacher," responds a blinking babysitter, just to make him squirm a little. After all, she knows he often speaks before he thinks. "I probably didn't have anything to do with it. And, you know, your wife has a better vocabulary than mine. I'm sure her influence hasn't left a mark."
He didn't bite, he just sucked.
"You are? An English Teacher? Oh … well. … Yeah, but my mom has a PhD."
The comment, relayed after the fact, sent me hurtling back to the movie "Party Girl," a film that introduced me to Parker Posey and a lithe, snide Holly Golightly of the '90s that I wanted to be.
It's the scene where Posey's character, Mary, dumps her boyfriend, Nigel, played by Liev Schreiber, for urinating in her shower.
Her explanation to him is elegant: "You lower my worth."
It occurs to me now just how often he lowers my worth. How often he lowers the worth of all women who didn't singled-handedly raise boys while getting themselves a higher degree than even he ever aspired to attain.
And I think to myself: "I bet he pisses in the shower, too."