Hi! I'm Lindsay Ferrier. You might remember me from a blog called Suburban Turmoil. Well, a lot has changed since I started that blog in 2005. My kids grew up, I got a divorce, and I finally left the suburbs for the heart of Nashville, where I feel like I truly belong. I have no idea what the future will hold and you know what? I'm okay with that. Thrilled, actually. It was time for something totally different.
November 10, 2007
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My family has a long-standing tradition of dinner together every night. It’s the time when our older girls tell us elaborate stories of their day at school, complete with wild pantomimes and silly voices.
“Remember Steven? The pimp? Well today, he told Mary Helen that he didn’t want to date her anymore- He just wants to be friends with benefits! And she gave him this look, like this, and everyone, like, cracked up!”
“Omigosh, remember when I told you how Ms. Fuqua hates me? In Spanish, she yelled at me to stop talking, even though Jennifer was totally the one doing it!”
On and on they go, each story more grandiose than the last. Three-year-old Punky sits quietly through most of these dinners, watching her older sisters and laughing along with us, although I’m quite sure she has no idea what she’s laughing about. Generally about midway through dinner, she decides she wants to be part of the show.
“Hey guys,” she’ll whisper. With all the pandemonium at the table, no one hears her. “Guys,” she says a little louder. “Hey guys!” Still, no one responds. “HEY EVERYONE! LISTEN!”
Finally, the girls stop talking. Punky smiles coyly and looks around, savoring the moment when all eyes, at last, are on her.
“Well,” she says, stalling. “Um, well, do you renember…?” She pauses, realizing she hasn’t exactly come up with anything to say. We wait as she thinks for a moment, then continues. “Do you renember when we all watched Batman?” She’s talking about watching Batman and Robin on DVD with the girls a few nights ago.
“Wow!” My 14-year-old says enthusiastically. “I do remember that. That was awesome!”
“Yeah,” my 17-year-old says. “That was really fun. We had a great time, didn’t we? What a terrific memory, Punky!” We all laugh appreciatively as Punky beams. She’s one of the big girls now and she loves it.
And once again, I’m so grateful to be part of a blended family, where, when things are running smoothly, everyone shares the spotlight and everyone has a story to tell.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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