Unmitigated Disasters

[porphyry]

Five or six times a week, Malkhos comes to me (usually I’m rushing for work or trying to finish household chores) with this kind of report: “That was an unmitigated disaster!” The dire news is typically accompanied by a look of sheer disbelief. A sample:

“This is an unmitigated disaster,” he says.
“What?” I say.
“Madeline just came in here with two bananas!”
“So?”

* * *
“Well, that was an unmitigated disaster,” he says.
“What?” I say.
“When she took her bath, she refused to sit down because she claimed ‘Too hot! Too hot!’” he says.
“You should have put more cool water in it, then,” I say.
“I did, but she still refused to sit down,” he says. “She only began to splash water out of the tub with her foot, maintaining a precarious balance upon the other, screaming the whole time,” he says.
“She’s two. She’s crazy,” I say. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”

* * *
“So I took them outside—“ Malkhos says.
“Wait, wait—some unmitigated disaster befell you?” I ask.
“Yes,” he replies. “Madeline got a soda and then pretended to want to drink it, but she’d only take mouthfuls of it and then spit it out onto the patio.”
“Maybe she thinks she’s a camel,” I suggest.
“Why does she do that?”
“You know, if you considered the how of things rather than the why all the time, maybe you wouldn’t be so disaster prone,” I say.

* * *
I have one long day at work this term. The last time we had a rainy day on this day I would be at work through the evening, I suggested Malkhos take them to the museum and then perhaps for ice cream.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he says.
“Because?”
“Because the last time I took them, it was an unmitigated disaster,” he says.
“The museum?”
“No, the ice cream,” he says.
“How so?”
“When her ice cream started to drip, she started rubbing it all over the wall,” he says. “It was horrifying.”
“Well, then, you should have taken it from her,” I say. “Or gotten her a spoon to help her out.”
“I have no business to attempt anything like that,” he says.

* * *

Malkhos called his mother to tell her Andrew had broken his leg again. The whole conversation turned out to be an unmitigated disaster.
I asked him, "What did you say to your mother?"
He said, "I told her 'Andrew broke his leg again.'"
"So what did she say?" I ask.
"'Hello? Hello? Hello?'"
"Oh, God. Then what?" I say.
"'Andrew's broken his leg,' and then she said 'Are you there? Are you there?' so by this time I was shouting and I told her 'You really need to go get a hearing aid' to which she replied 'Hello? Are you there? You have to speak up!' so I hung up the phone."
"You hung up on her?"
"Of course I did!"
"Well," I say, "I guess I'll go call her back and make amends."

Comments

[leopold-paula-b.livejournal.com]

Under the same circumstances I would have hung up as well. (And I'm totally exculpated by just thinking this speech into her general direction: "Mummy dearest, I'm very sorry, but that's no use now. Let's try it again another time when conditions are better.")

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

Well, under the best of circumstances, Malkhos dislikes talking on the phone. Also, he desires no exculpation from his mother, whom he considers dimwitted and tedious, so mostly if a phone call needs to be made, I do it. I don't know why I didn't do that one.

[leopold-paula-b.livejournal.com]

Another thing I have in common with Monsieur. I HATE the telephone. (I love to meet people in person or to write emails though.)

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

I don't like talking on the phone, either, at all, but I will do it. In person in much better--I need to see expression and body language. I need to hear tone of voice and inflection. I'm a good reader of nonverbal cues. I always feel like I'm having a half-conversation when it's by phone. Now Malkhos--he simply abhors it. He'd conduct his whole life by e-mail if he could (I'm exaggerating :). Watching him try to talk to his mother (who is dimwitted and tedious) is rather funny.

[himmapaan.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear!

[(Anonymous)]

You are trying to write like Heather Armstrong (http://dooce.com/) but are completely failing.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

Thanks for that so much. You'll never now how much we appreciate this comment. And not just the substance of its sentiment, but the bravery you show in masking negative criticism behind anonymity--that's an example for us all. Since neither of us has ever heard of this Armstrong, however, it develops that you might be suffering from the problem of gelatinous cretinity, and unfortunately, since the world's only known source of its cure dalinal has long been used up, there is no hope for you.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

Since I'm the one who actually authored it, I suppose I could either agree or disagree but I've never even heard of Heather Armstrong. I only write my experiences and observations in this journal and have no pretentions to authorship. That's what journals are for.

[malkhos.livejournal.com]

So my curiosity got the better of me and I found out who this Heather Armstrong is. My reactions: 1) It's a blog. I don't read blogs--ever. When I have free time to read, I prefer books, and nothing too contemporary. I don't even read my real life friends' blogs. 2) No one's life is that interesting, even Ms. Armstrong's; I don't care if it's a top-ten blog or not. There are, I assure you, better things to read. Hers bored me after about five minutes or less of skimming. 3) My journal is where I record certain aspects of our lives together here at home so I don't forget. I am fully comfortable with the fact it will lapse into obscurity but my kids can read it when they're older. That's all I do it for. 4) Please don't ascribe the motives of one person's writings to mine. You don't know me well enough.