Monday, November 20, 2006
Nature vs. Nurture: The War Wages On...
There is, I know, something about my personality and overall demeanor that makes the people in my life very nurturing towards me. I spend a lot of mental exercise on feeling guilty--and somewhat helpless--about this lifestyle.
I think that which is to follow are called "vignettes". Please enjoy:
We went with some friends to dinner recently and as we settled in to our seats I noticed a piece of chocolate cake winking at me from the dessert parlor counter. I told Chup about the exchange, and in two seconds he was buying it for me.
"He is really good to you." observed Justine.
"I know." I sighed.
On Saturday we headed to the Cougar game a bit earlier than usual. As we crossed the street I remembered that my glasses were left behind on my mother's buffet. Not wanting her aunt to have to put forth any more energy than was required by a Cougarfan, my sweet twelve-year-old niece Emily ran back into the house to retrieve them for me. Emily also holds my hand as we walk back from the game every week. She doesn't want me to get lost.
Now reporting from Idaho where my Mother-in-Law, Honey wraps me up in her softest blankets and pillows, places me on her dreamy leather couch and lets me watch any movie I want! I watched "Proof" and "Elizabethtown" which are both about dead fathers. Also Jake G in "Proof" once dated Kirsten D in "Elizabethtown". And my brother Christian reminds me of Orlando B who plays the lead in "Elizabethtown" where Christian served his Christian-related LDS mission.
My Father-in-Law Ringo isn't far behind. He made sure the hot tub was just the right temperature last night so that I could simmer while the cool canyon winds ran their small jet stream fingers through my hair.
Which reminds me of my real father who has spoiled my existence from my human entrance. The man should write a book on how it's done!
And as I was drifting off to sleep last night, all warm in my bed with a view that kills uninspired Insurance Salesmen, I decided that when I am fifty years old I will start nurturing back. The world will encompass a new me. I am going to sit and my stove and cook all the day long and people will just show up at my door for warm soup and hot bread and maybe a back massage (if they don't have back zits) and they can drop their children at my door and there will be crafts and gluing sequins and pony rides. And Chup will have to be the pony because I don't want a real pony because when I am fifty I will have to do all the maintenance for the pony which takes away time from my stove post where I will make my secret chocolate drinks that cures menstrual cramps. And so on.
Because don't get me all wrong, I would start today, except that any of my nurturing attempts fail into a vat of embarrassment. Take for instance my recent mission to cure my mother of a common cold and ended up in engaging her in a therapy session on how I can't get over that Stephanie got the big lips in the family and wondering if I could justify fat injections in my own set. Failed. Fails. Fail.
To sort of quote Lehi, I say there are those who nurture, and those who are nurtured upon. I will be the later for now. It's a good enough ride if you can take the guilt. And as far as that goes I am calling these next twenty years "research" in receiving. In twenty years I will emerge from this sabbatical and sprinkle the humanity cupcake with the nurture of twenty Relief Society presidents and two Nursery leaders.
And now, back to my spot on the couch. Can anyone recommend "Prime"?