It always sent my dad into a fury. He would start throwing orders around. I can still hear him yelling:
Make the beds!
Do the the dishes!
Take my tighty-whiteys off the dog!
Put the bunny and hamsters back in their cages!
Climb out of the dumbwaiter . . . . NOW!
Pretty soon, he would have the BBQ fired up and he would throw some frozen meat on the grill. My siblings and I would be quiet, cautious. Guilty.
Looking back, I love her for this. I love that 99 percent of the time she gave her entire heart and soul to her family. And I love that 1 percent of the time she reminded us what ungrateful sh*ts we were.
Good job, Mom. I love borrowing pages from your playbook. xoxo