There is a definite pecking order among my children, and it’s no more me running the show and no more Mama’s house. I’ve had to move over.
The position of the siblings in the family didn’t surface until they became older. Not by age, but by personality, they have become bold about how things are supposed to be in my house.
We have an alpha dog who runs the house. He chews on a bone until we see it his way. In a close second is the get-it-done sister, who won’t turn loose of the bone either. In the third place is the oldest, mature sister who leads quietly and keeps peace.
And the fourth sister, who is our youngest daughter, is definitely the last one in the pecking order. She’s like her dad, willing to please everyone and has a servant’s heart. She is often overlooked. We have learned to navigate around these strong personalities in order to keep a happy home.
I told my friend that each person in our family, including me, is driven, with purpose and goals, workaholics, and definite leaders, except for our daughter Angel, who waits on everyone and supports them.
She remarked, “She’s an Angel of mercy. It sounds like your family needs her.”
I told her I had never seen it that way. I thought she needed us. Oh me. I have a lot to learn.
Why does it take a lifetime to see how gracious God is to us? Why is it the one we need the most is overlooked and is least appreciated?
Heavens, we need to look at our Angel in a different light. God knew we needed her to balance our family. She helps her sister with the Booster Club events. She’s the one who takes care of her dad and relieves me. She does my grocery shopping and picks up the prescriptions. She bakes goodies for her brother. She’s there for every member of the family. She is a gift and has blessed this happy home.
So, when our oldest daughter and her husband came for their summer vacation, the whole family automatically took their place. It was obvious who was running the show and who was serving the others.
The second daughter wanted to clean out the crawl space while she had help. I said, “No, we’ll have a big mess in the middle of the house.” She overruled. Totes, boxes of my painted greeting cards and thousands of copies of prints came through the living room, to the front door and to the dump. What a mess, but she got the job done. I’m happy.
Angel went into baking mode. My oldest daughter went to the computer, worked on my website and started doing marketing for my next book. And the alpha dog checked in and out regularly to make sure we were all doing it right.
Each night after dinner our family sits around the table. Then a table game comes out, the comedy act begins, and family conversation and one-liners surface during the game.
My second daughter yelled, “Sorrrrrrry.” We all laughed. We know the line when Eunice yelled, “Sorrrrrrry” as she slammed down the game piece. Mama’s not happy, but Eunice is.
Losing interest in the game, my Sweet Al asked, “What’s for dessert?”
Our youngest daughter said, “I made brownies, Daddy.” She brought them to the table.
“Do they have walnuts?” I asked.
“No, I forgot to put them in.”
“What? You know I won’t eat a brownie without walnuts.”
My second daughter reached for a game card, “I won’t either.”
Our son walks in, “I won’t eat a brownie without nuts.”
I asked my youngest daughter, “How many times have you forgotten to put walnuts in the brownies?”
My oldest daughter quietly quipped, “I think we’re majoring on the minor and not being thankful she baked them.”
One son-in-law from California added, “Just poke some holes and stuff walnuts inside. It’s OK.”
I had to drive home a point. “A brownie without walnuts is just not the same.”
My other son-in-law showed his disappointment. “Yeah, you forgot the walnuts in the banana nut bread, too. We’ve had this conversation before.”
I sighed, “I guess I’ll have to force myself to eat a brownie without nuts.”
I gave my Sweet Al a brownie, threw a few walnuts on his plate and he was happy.
My second daughter said, “This conversation sounds like ‘Mama’s Family.’”
It sounds fitting. The scene opened with the theme song, “Bless My Happy Home.”
Remember Eunice Higgins, the daughter, and Thelma, “Mama” Harper. Her son, Vint and his wife, Naomi, broke and living in Mama’s basement. Mama’s delinquent grandson, Bubba, just released from juvenile hall, is on probation and lives with his grandmother.
I said, “In today’s world, sounds like it could be anybody’s family. Thank God no one is wearing an ankle bracelet at the moment and they all have their own houses when it’s time to go home. This has to be an article.”
Our son sarcastically chimed in, “Of course, it has to be an article.”
Final brushstroke: We can’t help ourselves. We are going to do what we do. We don’t choose our family. They just show up and find their place. Go figure.
Send your comment to bettyslade.author@gmail.com. I’d love to share them with the other folks in Pagosa.
Views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN.
