Monday – A Dallas Fan and a Despot
May. 24th, 2010 01:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
My son’s babysitter left me two voice messages (one on my house phone and one on my cell) and a text this morning while I was in the shower, asking me to call her as soon as I got it. Hoping she wasn’t going to bale on me today (which she’s never done before), I called her up to see what was the matter.
“I was just wondering,” she said apologetically, “I know you usually pay me on Monday afternoons, but could you drop off your check this morning instead?” She went on to say that her cell phone bill was due – she had been putting it off - and that she wanted to pay it today.
I told her sure. Besides the inconvenience of having to write the check when I’m rushing to work verses writing it when I’m less rushed on my way home, it’s no big deal to me one way or the other. But I’ve noticed money has a very weird dynamic in her marriage; she doesn’t like to ask her husband for it, ever. Even though she is a stay-at-home mom and the one who does all the grocery and household shopping, for some reason she dreads having to let her husband know when she needs a little extra for something.
I generally pay her every other Monday for two weeks worth of childcare. One week she asked me on the Thursday before she was to get paid if I could pay her early. Her daughters had just gotten a new puppy and she had taken it to the vet for its first checkup and vaccinations. The vet bill was more than she had expected it to be.
“If you can’t pay me early, I understand. I can always ask Ralph* if he can give me some money to cover it. I mean, that’s no big deal. But if you can, you know, pay me a little early just this one time, that would be wonderful. If you don’t mind and if Jeff doesn’t mind. If you do, or he does, that’s okay, you can just pay me on Monday like you always do.”
From other conversations I’ve had with her, though, I’ve picked up that it is a very big deal for her to ask her husband for money. The two times she has asked to be paid early (once by 4 days and once by 9 hours), she didn’t seem very comfortable asking me and was very apologetic. It makes me wonder what happens when she asks her spouse. I’ve seen no indication that he is violent with her; I think she just doesn’t like to be yelled at. She isn’t the sort of person who yells, which is one reason my son does so well in her care (being yelled at sends him into meltdown mode in matter of seconds. A stern tone of voice is all it takes to cause him real distress). I don’t think this is the case with her husband.
My husband, Jeff, has never met Ralph, but doesn’t think much of him from what he’s heard. My babysitter doesn’t spank her kids (she is a master of THE COUNTDOWN TO DOOM, which makes them turn heal and obey her command whenever she starts with, “Okay! That’s ONE!”). When she first started watching my son, her then 5 year old daughter had earned her father’s wrath and gotten a spanking for rearranging the furniture in her room. She had gotten it in her head that she wanted things in different places than where they were, and had gone to a great deal of effort to push things around so that they were more to her liking. As far as I’m concerned, this is the prerogative of any woman to arrange her space so that it suits her, even a very small woman in the making. Her father came home, blew his top, and put everything back the way it was. Little Karlie rearranged things again the next day.
“So Ralph decided to spank her, you know, so she wouldn’t do it again. I couldn’t watch,” my babysitter said, making a pained face, “I went out in the garage where I wouldn’t even have to hear it.”
I told Jeff about it the next day, and we both thought Ralph over reacted. We would have asked the 5 year old why she wanted her room different, and how she wanted her room different, and if anything about her ideal arrangement was not practical (“You can’t put the table where it blocks the door, sweetie.”), we would work out a compromise (“Why don’t we put it here, instead?”). Jeff and I are of the mindset that there is a difference between reasonable discipline and unreasonable authoritarian parental control. We’re hippies like that, I guess.
The thing that Jeff found so outrageous was Ralph’s Christmas tree. Ralph is a huge Dallas Cowboys fan. The lights that adorned their house at Christmas were blue and white, with stars all over the shrubs in front of the window. In the house were two Christmas trees: one decorated in the Dallas Cowboys team colors with Dallas Cowboys themed ornaments all over it, and one that was decorated with heirloom ornaments and the ones that Karlie and her sister had made in school. The Dallas Cowboys tree was over six feet tall and had the place of honor in front of the window. The “family” tree was small and was set off to the side. This was the tree that the girl’s presents were put under, since they were not in Dallas Cowboys themed wrapping paper. Only blue and white wrapped presents were allowed under the Cowboys tree. Jeff’s assessment of the Christmas trees was that it was “pretty messed up.” To Jeff, who is a bit of a Christmas fanatic, it symbolically said that the guy’s favorite sports team is more important to him than his wife and daughters are.
“He’s like your basic household despot,” Jeff said of Ralph.
I’ve met Ralph, or at least have been in the same room with him, but can’t really give an impression of him since he never has made a point to speak to me or introduce himself. He will say hi to me only if I make a point to say hi to him first. When cornered like that, he is polite, if giving a grunt of acknowledgement and a nod can be called polite. My own husband is an introvert and a bit of a misanthrope, but at least he is civil and greets people I introduce him to. Ralph apparently doesn’t see any point to it.
I wrote my babysitter her check before I left the house this morning and handed it to her when I dropped off my son. She looked very relieved, and thanked me.
I told her it wasn’t any problem for me.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
*Not his real name.
.
.
My son’s babysitter left me two voice messages (one on my house phone and one on my cell) and a text this morning while I was in the shower, asking me to call her as soon as I got it. Hoping she wasn’t going to bale on me today (which she’s never done before), I called her up to see what was the matter.
“I was just wondering,” she said apologetically, “I know you usually pay me on Monday afternoons, but could you drop off your check this morning instead?” She went on to say that her cell phone bill was due – she had been putting it off - and that she wanted to pay it today.
I told her sure. Besides the inconvenience of having to write the check when I’m rushing to work verses writing it when I’m less rushed on my way home, it’s no big deal to me one way or the other. But I’ve noticed money has a very weird dynamic in her marriage; she doesn’t like to ask her husband for it, ever. Even though she is a stay-at-home mom and the one who does all the grocery and household shopping, for some reason she dreads having to let her husband know when she needs a little extra for something.
I generally pay her every other Monday for two weeks worth of childcare. One week she asked me on the Thursday before she was to get paid if I could pay her early. Her daughters had just gotten a new puppy and she had taken it to the vet for its first checkup and vaccinations. The vet bill was more than she had expected it to be.
“If you can’t pay me early, I understand. I can always ask Ralph* if he can give me some money to cover it. I mean, that’s no big deal. But if you can, you know, pay me a little early just this one time, that would be wonderful. If you don’t mind and if Jeff doesn’t mind. If you do, or he does, that’s okay, you can just pay me on Monday like you always do.”
From other conversations I’ve had with her, though, I’ve picked up that it is a very big deal for her to ask her husband for money. The two times she has asked to be paid early (once by 4 days and once by 9 hours), she didn’t seem very comfortable asking me and was very apologetic. It makes me wonder what happens when she asks her spouse. I’ve seen no indication that he is violent with her; I think she just doesn’t like to be yelled at. She isn’t the sort of person who yells, which is one reason my son does so well in her care (being yelled at sends him into meltdown mode in matter of seconds. A stern tone of voice is all it takes to cause him real distress). I don’t think this is the case with her husband.
My husband, Jeff, has never met Ralph, but doesn’t think much of him from what he’s heard. My babysitter doesn’t spank her kids (she is a master of THE COUNTDOWN TO DOOM, which makes them turn heal and obey her command whenever she starts with, “Okay! That’s ONE!”). When she first started watching my son, her then 5 year old daughter had earned her father’s wrath and gotten a spanking for rearranging the furniture in her room. She had gotten it in her head that she wanted things in different places than where they were, and had gone to a great deal of effort to push things around so that they were more to her liking. As far as I’m concerned, this is the prerogative of any woman to arrange her space so that it suits her, even a very small woman in the making. Her father came home, blew his top, and put everything back the way it was. Little Karlie rearranged things again the next day.
“So Ralph decided to spank her, you know, so she wouldn’t do it again. I couldn’t watch,” my babysitter said, making a pained face, “I went out in the garage where I wouldn’t even have to hear it.”
I told Jeff about it the next day, and we both thought Ralph over reacted. We would have asked the 5 year old why she wanted her room different, and how she wanted her room different, and if anything about her ideal arrangement was not practical (“You can’t put the table where it blocks the door, sweetie.”), we would work out a compromise (“Why don’t we put it here, instead?”). Jeff and I are of the mindset that there is a difference between reasonable discipline and unreasonable authoritarian parental control. We’re hippies like that, I guess.
The thing that Jeff found so outrageous was Ralph’s Christmas tree. Ralph is a huge Dallas Cowboys fan. The lights that adorned their house at Christmas were blue and white, with stars all over the shrubs in front of the window. In the house were two Christmas trees: one decorated in the Dallas Cowboys team colors with Dallas Cowboys themed ornaments all over it, and one that was decorated with heirloom ornaments and the ones that Karlie and her sister had made in school. The Dallas Cowboys tree was over six feet tall and had the place of honor in front of the window. The “family” tree was small and was set off to the side. This was the tree that the girl’s presents were put under, since they were not in Dallas Cowboys themed wrapping paper. Only blue and white wrapped presents were allowed under the Cowboys tree. Jeff’s assessment of the Christmas trees was that it was “pretty messed up.” To Jeff, who is a bit of a Christmas fanatic, it symbolically said that the guy’s favorite sports team is more important to him than his wife and daughters are.
“He’s like your basic household despot,” Jeff said of Ralph.
I’ve met Ralph, or at least have been in the same room with him, but can’t really give an impression of him since he never has made a point to speak to me or introduce himself. He will say hi to me only if I make a point to say hi to him first. When cornered like that, he is polite, if giving a grunt of acknowledgement and a nod can be called polite. My own husband is an introvert and a bit of a misanthrope, but at least he is civil and greets people I introduce him to. Ralph apparently doesn’t see any point to it.
I wrote my babysitter her check before I left the house this morning and handed it to her when I dropped off my son. She looked very relieved, and thanked me.
I told her it wasn’t any problem for me.
*Not his real name.
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no subject
Date: 2010-05-24 07:13 pm (UTC)His daughter and wife aren't allowed in the living room during a football game unless they are bringing him things. They aren't allowed to talk to him during a football game unless its a commercial and they are asking if they can get him something.
The worst part is that he doesn't seem like a sport-o most of the time. He's an engineer, in to space stuff, Star Wars, its just something about sports that turns him in to a drooling slope-foreheaded asswipe.
Hell, we went over for Thanksgiving dinner and he was parked on the sofa watching bowling and kept yelling "You're making too much noise in there!"
Too much noise being quietly opening the oven and basting a turkey.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-24 08:03 pm (UTC)