The Kitchen Shrink by Dee Detarsio

Author:Dee Detarsio [Detarsio, Dee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780615446387
Amazon: B004MMEA0I
Publisher: Just Publishing
Published: 2011-02-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Backlash

So my sensitive kids still didn’t realize that their fish, Orange Juice, was floating in that big ocean in the, well, in the ocean. I was always amazed at their super heroic powers of self-absorption. However, the Instigator and his sidekick, the Irritator, did try to make me feel better. It was reassuring to see that deep, deep down in their psyche, hidden beneath their Facebook wall, iPod music receptors, cell phone attachments and hair grooming ability, they did own one sensitive brain cell that cared enough to try to cheer me up.

Or maybe that was just because they were trying to butter me up. Nicole told me she was spending the night at her friend Molly’s house.

“Oh, no, you’re not,” I told her. “It’s a school night.”

She cried and carried on before storming into her room. I heard her scream ‘bitch!’ and I went loco.

Oh no she di-n’t, I thought. I couldn’t believe it. Without knocking, I flung open her door. “Are you kidding me?” I asked her.

“Get out,” she cried, as she was crying. “I didn’t call you that. I just said it,” she tried to backtrack.

“You may not speak to me like that. Ever.” I told her. That really hurt. I quietly shut her door. Sometimes I was so worried about her. She had been acting so moody. One minute she would be silly and goofing around, and the next, succumb to total ear-splitting, earth-shattering drama. Ryan even wanted to know how long a girl’s period was supposed to last. But this seemed to be more than hormones run amok. Although I know how powerful hormones can be. Oh, brother. Teenagers. I hoped they didn’t hear any of that downstairs. I headed down to my kitchen.

“Hey, bitch,” Elgin simpered his greeting to me, his hands on his hips.

“You heard that?”

“NBC Burbank heard that. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. And I’m not a bitch,” I told him.

“You can be,” he said.

“You’re right.” I had to agree. “But this time, I wasn’t.”

He quirked one eyebrow at me.

“Don’t give me your eyebrow,” which was more manicured than mine, I told him. “How dare she say that to me, even if I was? I just don’t know what’s going on with her lately. All this drama.”

I took a deep breath. Just in time for another go-around with Elgin about my kitchen. Now, he’s a bitch.

See, in theory, I’m all for reducing, reusing and recycling. However, in practice, I hate those flickering fluorescent gas station looking lights. But, alright. We put them in the track lighting in my kitchen and made a big deal of reducing my carbon footprint and going green. The latest hitch was the backsplash. Above my stove and below my teal cabinets, a two-foot by ten-foot space that was not going to be painted red, was an area primed for the backsplash. There are all types of gorgeous ideas for backsplashes. Mosaic tiles, subway tiles, and hey, here’s an idea, how about granite? But, no. Elgin wanted extra credit for recycling.

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