Selective Memory

Upon having children I have come to realize that a certain Papou does not seem to remember the trials and tribulations of raising little ones. Let me tell you a little about my childhood...

My parents were both born in Greece, my mother moved here at 13 and over time had become pretty "Americanized" throughout her adulthood. My father on the other hand (Papou to the boys) didn't move here until he was in his 30s and still has the thick Greek accent and loves to cook and feed, feed, feed anyone who walks through the door. Growing up with a Greek family is exactly what has been portrayed on television (and the movies per "My Big Fat Greek Wedding") We were taught that nothing is better than being Greek and quickly learned how to be loud, fast-talking, eating machines, who are always right!



Now mind you, I have a younger brother and an older sister (there are 3 more but I didn't technically grow up with them) And the 3 of us used to fight...A LOT. D was known for the ultimate punishment, which was a straight side fist shot right to the middle of your back. G was the big baby that would just scream "MOOOOOM" or "DAAAAAAD".



Now this is how I remember things happening. Dad would come into the room and yell at us to keep quiet. As soon as he would leave we would start fighting again. The yelling and fighting would go on for some time until eventually Dad had had enough and would come in the room with "The Belt". We feared "The Belt", but not enough for it to make us stop fighting (this was typically G and I at this point) Then Dad would proceed to teach us a lesson with feared belt, enough said!



Now that I am mother of two small boys, I am not going to lie and say that I have never been tempted with such punishment. But I can honestly say that I have never used the dreaded belt. But I am known for a stern warning and a time-out when necessary....and you know there are plenty of times when raising my voice to get my point across is necessary. As well as taking beloved games and toys away.



So now that my dad is "Papou" he has seemed to forgotten the punishment brought upon us as children. Whenever I even come near to raising my voice to the boys, he chimes in with "Asame" (Greek for "stop, leave em alone") and tells me that I shouldn't yell at the boys! Obviously, this induces extreme laughter on my part. I ask my dad "What about all of the yelling and belt whipping that was put upon me as a child?" His response to that is "I don't know what you're talking about!" I never yelled, or hit you with the belt." I don't even bother arguing (if you had a Greek dad you would know why there is no point in wasting your breath)

So I have come to understand that the older you get the more you can claim to not remember. I know my dad remembers the punishments that we brought upon ourselves as children. Shoot, he talks about the punishment brought upon him as a child and that was over 60 years ago!

Dad is a Papou now and can't bear to see his grandchildren being punished for ANYTHING! He can't even say no to them for crying out loud. But I guess that is the benefit of being a grandparent, you get all of the fun times without having to dish out any negative energy. Not only that, but you can stop your children from punishing their own! I look forward to one day when I can spoil kids rotten, pretend like I don't remember anything from when they were younger and get away with all kinds of untruths!

Why not? Everyone else is doing it!

My introduction to the world of blogging. Exciting I know. Like my friends and family don't hear me talk enough, now I have to penetrate their lives with the randomness that runs through my head whenever I have down time at work. This has to be better than reading celebrity news or trying to find out when the next trailer of the "Twilight Saga" is going to come out, right? So I figure "lets give it a try" and see if it grows on me.

Please don't pay attention to my grammar. HAHA Typically, when I type my thoughts I tend to type exactly how I speak...without any pauses...which usually means no commas and a LOT of run-on sentences. But if you know me, this is nothing but expected! I'll do my best to get my thoughts out there and I hope at the very least you get a giggle or maybe even an out right laugh out of some of my stories!

Being the mother of two small boys, I've become accustomed to being the only girl in the household. But now that the boys are getting older, I'm not so sure I'm OK with it. T.C. comes home smelling to the high heavens after his grueling 2 hour football practice. (My baby? Smelling like a gross, sweaty man? This just ain't right!) N.P. already playing frat-boy quality pranks on his older brother, (A story for another time, possibly over a cocktail) and my dear, dear hubby thinking that properly cleaning the house consists of putting everything into a pile and shoving it off to the side. But it's definitely the thought that counts, and after coming home from a long day at work, dealing with people's problems, it's nice not to have to look at a scattered mess. If it's sitting quietly in the corner, it doesn't bother me nearly as much.

Does this make me the Queen of my domain? May I milk this only girl thing? Does this mean that I have the perfect excuse to go run out with Dea to go get a mani-pedi? Or possibly the Wednesday evening cheap beer that we oh so love?

I'm obviously subjected to a life of smelly boys, gross pranks, video games, sports and all around rough housing. All this before they are even teenagers? At least hormone rattled teenage girls aren't in the mix yet...Sheesh, I can't even think about that!