The Big Guy The Refrigerator And The Shrink  

Posted by Heidi in ,


People often ask, “How can you write such humiliating things about you and yours?”

Okay, they don’t ask me, but I can see it in their eyes.

Okay, that isn’t true either because I can’t see most of your eyes but I can hear it in your thoughts—the ones that are being transmuted across cyberspace.

Ah, heck! I am the one wondering why I would be so willing to spill my guts and let it all hang out, as it were.

The truth is, when you have a large kid who does things like throw temper tantrums in the middle of church (he once broke The Spouse’s rib just by elbowing him in a quiet but heated dispute—most of the other disputes weren’t so quiet) or lifts his shirt and does a belly dance on top of a marble bench at the cemetery as your grandfather is laying a loved one to rest, so much of life is really just insignificant fluff.

That being said, I refuse to do a meme or a tag, or whatever they are calling it these days, that requires pictures that reveal my house in its true grime-filled guise. Sure, I can say that my house is a mess and I am a terrible housekeeper but for the love of Pete, I’m not going prove it! For posterity! Forever! I especially refuse to show the inside of my refrigerator as Mary of Mary Has A Little Glob so recently did. She, however, has nothing to be ashamed of (except maybe the duck eggs) but I have actual spores that are laying down roots and raising families in mine.

A while back, when life was much darker for us than it is today and the spores in my fridge were more abundant and inviting friends, the Big Guy had a psychologist who actually came to the house to visit with him. The day the Big Guy invited the psychologist into the kitchen to see something in the fridge was one of the most traumatic of my life. Never mind that said psychologist was privy to all our deep, dark secrets, (the Big Guy and his doings and the aftershocks of said doings being the deepest and darkest) the one thing I would rather die than reveal to him (or just about anyone) was/is the state of my refrigerator.

The fact that I followed the two of them into the kitchen with panic written all over my countenancee (and, let’s face it, body—this was no ordinary panic), threw myself in front of the door and collapsed in a heap on the floor when my efforts proved too weak for the determination of the Big Guy no doubt had Mr. County Children’s Health Center Psychologist thinking there was more than spores growing in that there fridge. In fact, I think I saw a bit of disappointment on his face when he clapped eyes on a rather ordinary fridge with rather ordinary spores growing there-in.

No doubt he was looking forward to calling out the cavalry. He had to make do with pulling out the smelling salts.
Very shortly thereafter, I requested a new psychologist; one for the Big Guy and one for me, the result of which, I am pretty much over it. For which I am very grateful.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 6, 2008 at Thursday, November 06, 2008 and is filed under , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

19 wise, witty and wonderful comments

Yep, our kids help us to tell all, even when we don't want to. Like when I am relating a story to someone and my son says, "Mom, I didn't say it like that. And YOU yelled when it really happened!" Etc, etc. UGH. I hate for anyone to look in my fridge. We deserve to have some little secrets. :)

November 6, 2008 at 12:34 PM

You said it! A few little secrets are good.

November 6, 2008 at 1:09 PM

Why is a psychologist looking in your fridge in the first place? That's just weird.
And I really like the messy house tag, it makes everyone feel better about themselves.

November 6, 2008 at 1:32 PM

My most humiliating time span was when my then 2 year old kept saying "Mommy you are scaring me" and "My Mommy is making me scared." I had no idea what he meant because it clearly wasn't in a let's play monsters kind of way. He was definitely acting like I was beating him or threatening to hurt him.

Finally after a few weeks of humiliation (he told friends, relatives, the mailman) he told me right after an incident that "I just scared him." I asked why and he told me "because you used a disappointed tone."

I laughed out loud. I had barely raised my voice, hadn't even touched him in the arm and yet he was frightened because he knew I wasn't happy with him. Ah kids, they can be such stinkers!

November 6, 2008 at 1:40 PM

Let me tell you, going into people's homes is not the highlight of my day. Not because I care what the home looks like, I just know the people I see are usually mortified. I always think, if I had a social worker (in your case psychologist) come look at my house once a month, my kids would probably be taken away. Parents usually apologize and I tell them not to worry.

The fridge thing is pretty lame. When I was with the RCEB, we had to look at people's bathrooms for toilet paper! It had something to do with quality assurance, but I always felt like more of a police man and less of a social worker. We also had to look into fridges for possible food issues. I never did. I just asked if they needed help with groceries. Sometimes things are way over done when it comes to helping people.

Now in MI, I have to look at people's taxes and bills once a year! AH! Talk about uncomfortable!

Bless you heart.

November 6, 2008 at 2:09 PM

Let me tell you why this made me laugh. My mom is coming to visit this week, and I've been looking at the messy nooks and crannies of my house in a whole new (very disturbed) way. The fridge is freaking me out in particular. But you know what? It's just gonna have to be groddy when she's here - I have very FEW opportunities when I don't have a toddler ping-ponging off the walls of my house, and I don't want to spend that precious time cleaning my fridge. But still, I know it's gonna bug me. :)

November 6, 2008 at 2:16 PM

My oldest had to see a "friend" for a while. I was often worried about what she was telling and if there would be a midnight visit from the locals. Not that there was really anything that we had done wrong, but I do have smelly, growing, crazy things all over my house. Kids are way too honest.

November 6, 2008 at 2:40 PM

I wouldn't want anyone looking in my fridge right now either... and silly Mary, if my house was as clean as hers, I woulda done the tags too!

November 6, 2008 at 2:45 PM

Oh, and one time, my little sister was mad at my mom for not buying her a treat at the store. When my mother told her it was time to go, she stood in the middle of the store and screamed "You're Not My MOM!"
My mother was embarrassed - thankfully, we lived in a small town and so everyone knew that poor little Josie really belonged to my mom.

November 6, 2008 at 2:47 PM

Mary--your fridge was like, spotless! Except the duck eggs, which I am pretty sure come that way. Jen, I laughed out loud, too! Knowing your kids, it's even funnier because I can see the little expression on his face (or the other his) Katie--bless YOUR heart! That can't be a fun thing to do, either the bathroom or the checkbook. Yikes! Stacey-so glad you laughed. You were supposed to. Oh, and I'm glad I'm not alone in this. (It's Mary who's alone, neener neener neener!) Youngblood, I haven't had to worry too much about what the Big Guy says. His first grade teacher sent home a note that read "If you don't believe half of what he tells you about me, I won't believe half of what he tells me about you." See, people get him. My daughter, on the other hand, scares me to death. In fact, she did have one therapist convinced I was the root of all evil but thank goodness we got that straightened out. Abra--Josie is so smart, she scares me. Hopefully your cutie patooties won't be so clever when it comes to those kinds of things. Just saying . ..

November 6, 2008 at 3:07 PM

You are a delight. Congrats on your book, BTW!

November 6, 2008 at 4:09 PM

My refrigerator will never be shown to all of blogdom, that's for sure. :)

November 6, 2008 at 5:58 PM

My fridge is my most humiliating feature. My kids would probably be taken from me if social workers were to peek in it.

November 6, 2008 at 6:10 PM

Thanks girls! I wish my fridge were my most humilating feature but I know it's my thighs because a few months ago I had the privilege of using the teacher's bathroom at my husband's school and it has a full length mirror on the back of the door just across from the toilet. I have never seen myself seated on the commode before. Not flattering. To anyone. I don't recommend it.

November 6, 2008 at 6:29 PM

Heidi,
I just had to come back over and thank you for your comment tonight.
"you're the kind of person that deserves to be made." It brought me some tears of gratitude for you and for the God that made you.

Thank you.

November 6, 2008 at 6:30 PM

Heidi,
A fridge is as personal as an underwear drawer in my opinion. No one belongs in there that you wouldn't invite into your bedroom the day before laundry day. I think I might even hang a sign on my fridge saying enter at your own risk (kind of like, beware of dog signs). They then get what they deserve.
Roxanne

November 6, 2008 at 7:07 PM

Heather, now you are making ME cry. Roxanne--it was the Big Guy who took him in there to show him some concoction he had made--he used to love to sprinkle garlic in jello and stuff like that to see what would happen (nothing, at least not until the spores took over but you don't need garlic for that)and this guy was just going along with it. He wouldn't have looked there ordinarily, I don't think.

November 6, 2008 at 7:22 PM

I totally understand you. I grew up with a learning disabled sister. She is big and is still throwing tantrums. My kids have watched as she has gone into a complete meltdown and used the f-word. I've watched my parents struggle with all her needs. It does make everything else seem pretty insignificant. You're right.

November 7, 2008 at 10:03 AM

Thanks Alyson. It means a lot that there are people out there who understand. Ain't the internet grand?

November 7, 2008 at 10:27 AM

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