Since when did my children become the experts on everything? It seems that they have answers to all of life's problems and don't hesitate to share them, voluntarily that is, with me and occasionally my husband.
Mind you, this sharing of knowledge is unasked for by me, and Mike. It also comes in the form of lectures about our vices; I drink too much coffee and am addicted to drugs, apparently, since I smoke cigarettes. I'm also "old" and can't sing.
My favorite unasked for advice comes from my eldest daughter, Katie, when we are in the car. I'm driving, and my 15 year-old, who has never driven and most likely will get lost going around the corner, insists on giving me driving directions. When I started refering to has as Kate-Kate, after the Tom-Tom GPS system, I did so in the hopes that my sarcasm would relay to her that her unsolicited advice was obnoxious and annoying as all hell. I figured that since she knew everything, she'd pick up on it and adjust her behavior.
Not so, sadly, as she merely giggled and continued to relay her instructions from the back seat.
Mike says that he wonders where she gets her backseat driver gene from, this a not so cleverly veiled reference to the fact that I backseat drive when Mike is driving. I give him a sideways look, a middle finger salute and a "fuck you Thiac", which makes him laugh. I HAVE to backseat drive with Mike because he drives like a cop, ie: maniacally. He also rides his brake in heavy traffic and downloads his Mark Levin, and Rush Limbaugh to his phone when he drives. He's also been known to mapquest things on his phone enroute, as opposed to doing it at home BEFORE setting out to where it is we are going.
I still have nightmares about our first "date date", when we met up with Al, Claude and Christina at the Abita Brew Pub, and him driving on the twisty roads that led us to Abita, and Mike driving and mucking about with his cell phone at the same time. I was convinced that I was going to die, and yet didn't say a word to him because I wanted the relationship to progress. I do believe that my body language was screaming "PLEASE SLOW THE HELL DOWN AND PUT BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL ON THIS DARK TWISTY ROAD BEFORE YOU ORPHAN MY CHILDREN!!" but Mike was too busy driving and texting to notice. Either that or he was being purposly obtuse. By the time we got to the pub, I threw myself out of the cab of the pick-up like I was fleeing from a serial killer and lit a cigarette. Then I went in and ordered a martini, which I drank in record time, then proceeded to order the biggest ale I could get my hands on.
I kept my eyes closed on the trip home, which involved crossing the 24 mile long Causeway over Lake Pontchartrain, which is pitch black at night and cold in December. There are baracuda in Lake Ponchartrain and fish and ever since Jaws, I've had this aversion to open waters. I didn't want to see us plunge into the dark depths, in case Mike's phone activites led to us plunging.
Since I obviously survived the trip (this isn't a zombie blog) and Mike and I are together 4evah, it all worked out. He still drives like a lunatic, and I still backseat drive, which annoys the living hell out of Mike. We've even snapped at each other on occasion, and so on long trips I try to sleep, or at least recline my seat back and pray. On the short trips, I bite my tongue, sometimes successfully, sometimes not.
As for my know it all children, I sometimes can't get a word in edgewise, because before I finish a sentence I get the "I Know, I know" reply, which makes me see red. Since the state frowns upon the use of Tazers on one's offspring, I am limited to growling at the children and occasonally resorting to the standard line that all "old" people like me use; "It must be nice to know everything. Why don't you go get a job and support me, since you already know it all, and I will go back to school."
Oh God, I am my parents!
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