I look forward to the holidays every year, especially since I had my kids. I love the idea of everyone gathered around heaping helpings of food, intermingled with belly laughs and lots of love. We normally spend most of our holidays with my dad’s side of the family; the Italians. I really love that bunch. My loud Italian grandmother and my dad’s six brothers helped raise me, even though my dad (until I was an adult) had very little to do with me. Much as I adore them, though, they are hella obnoxious sometimes. How, you ask? Oh, I’ll tell you.
Incident #1:
Let’s back up a tiny bit: To completely contradict everything I said about his behavior in this post, my 3 yr old has suddenly developed a liking of doll houses this week. We were at Toys ‘R’ Us last weekend, wandering through the PINK!PINK!PINK! aisle when Jonas took a liking to a uber fancy doll house castle-y thing. John and I thought it was cute that he liked it so much.
So yesterday Jonas was hanging out on the couch with one of my uncles when he asked Jonas what he wanted for Christmas. I should point out, this uncle is gay and is as married as a gay man can be in the state of Illinois. He’s been with his partner for 11 years, they own property together, and they are more committed than most couples I know. This uncle is in his 40’s, and I have known all my life he was not into girls. My dad is one of 7 boys – FOUR of his brothers are gay. There is enough gay in my family to start our own PFLAG chapter.
So Uncle asked Jonas what he wants for Christmas, and Jonas says “Uhhh, I want a doll house!” My (gay) uncle says “What did he say?!” and I repeated that he said he wanted a doll house. My (gay) uncle replies “What?? You are not getting a doll house – that’s silly – those are for girls!” So I said “Who cares if he wants a doll house? We don’t mind… honestly.” My uncle’s face is twisted in knots at this point and he exasperates “He can’t play with that stuff! It’ll turn him into a fairy!”
Here’s me thinking: Hello pot? Yes.. it’s kettle calling…. Um, I’d like to point out the fact that YOU ARE A “FAIRY”!
So John and I just start laughing at him and I say “Well, did you play with dolls when you were a kid?” And he shouts back “No! Absolutely not!” to which I respond with a silent “Well, clearly that’s not what caused you to fuck dudes then!” kind of look, and we all burst out laughing. He got got red, laughed, and seemed to get the point then. I wasn’t overly shocked to hear this uncle say that sort of a thing, though. He’s surprisingly homophobic for being a homo. We’ve upset him before by talking about how Jonas likes playing with my high heels in my closet… (you can actually get a few quality gay jokes out of that one.)
Oh… my family. *sigh*
Incident #2:
Yesterday, Julesy climbs up to me and asks to nurse. So, since I’m already nestled into the most comfortable recliner in the house, I simply pull up my sweater and latch him on. I was counting the seconds until my family started in with me about it – like they do every single time they see me nursing him. So 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 – and my uncle says “When are you gonna stop doing that?” with this incredulous look on his face. And I reply back confidently with a little smirk on my face, “When he’s done.”
Instantly, Grandma starts in with the same story she aaaaaaaaallllllways tells about how her friend saw some 5 year old kid nursing “In the middle of the mall! Can you believe that!” and when the kid was done nursing, he asked to go to McDonalds. This story is to meant to illustrate to me that if a child can ask for food, they shouldn’t be nursing.
I know you’re all saying “But tell them what the WHO code says about it!” and I would say I have done that until I’m blue in the face. Every time they bring this up, I’m schooling them on the benefits of breastfeeding. They just won’t get it. Of course, Grandma didn’t nurse any of her kids (her kids who all battle morbid obesity, cancer, skin problems, and a host of other serious afflictions), and her only daughter-in-law didn’t breastfeed either, so I am the lone “hippy-freak” in the family.
I know I shouldn’t (and don’t) care what they have to say about it… but I just get so tired of it being an issue. Part of me wants to nurse this kid until he’s 16 just to spite them. Last night I finally snapped a little, and after they shook their heads and gave me this “you’re-going-to-ruin-that-baby’s-life” sort of look, they finally shut up about it… for now. I’m sure I’ll be telling the same story all over again after Christmas.
So, that’s my family, in a nutshell. God I love them, but they driving me fucking bonkers sometimes. I need to start a site called “Shit My Obnoxious Italian Family Says.” I’m sure I’d have a few dozen entries each day.
Who else has hilarious a-hole family stories to tell? I’m sure the there are some real gems out there.























"lone hippy freak"...love it! i, too, am the lone hippy freak in my family. gets frustrating sometimes to feel like i am constantly defending what i do!
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