Modern Family

Let's get real. My family is the exact opposite of a modern family.

Our set-up is more like that of tribal Indians: three generations living in the same compound.

Unfortunatly for my dad's sake, ours is a female lineage that consists of my grandma, my mom, my sister, me, and a billion bottles of estrogen (if estrogen were a thing to be bottled).

Usually when I get home, my dad can be found on the recliner watching ESPN's Pardon the Interruption.

If I sit for a spell and watch PTI, it takes about two seconds for me to think aloud "What could possibly be more annoying than this show?"

.....Oh yeah, the four females that are occupying the other rooms of the house.

Here's an issue that my un-modern family really stuggles with: Eating Out.

After 25+ years of trying, we still have not found a simple way to choose a restuarant. Deciding where to go eat takes 1000x longer than ever thought humanly possible.

Do other families have this issue?!

One hour prior to dinner...

My Dad: "I'm gonna be flexible, as always. I have absolutely no preference where we eat."

My Mom: "I was thinking maybe Cuban Revolution."

My Sister: "What about Satisfaction?"

Me: "Do you think Grandma wants to go eat with us?"

My Dad: "No, Grandma already ate dinner at 4"

My Dad Again: "Ok, looks like I'm gonna have to make the final call. We're going to Bennet Pointe Grill."

Me: "Dad, that was never even an option."

.......and then continue that banter for about 60 more minutes, and there you have it. Our typical night out.

One Sunday a few weeks ago, my family argued for 10 straight minutes in the car about where to go eat brunch, and then my mom finally made "the executive decision." It was a new place downtown and apparently my mom only knew one specific way to get there, via Main Street.

"I only know ONE SPECIFIC WAY TO GET THERE, via Main Street."

Well, my dad decided to take a different route (i.e. not Main Street), and my mom proclaimed she was now lost and unable to get us to the intended restuarant. So we continued driving aimlessly around downtown Durham (actually passing the restuarant twice).

As you can imagine, my parents began to loudly bicker and my mom started using "the tone." My sister and I in the backseat became suddenly quiet.

We eventually spotted the restuarant and parked a half-mile away. After the long walk to the restuarant (I was in three inch heels), we got to the door and saw the "Closed on Sundays" sign.

The walk back to the car was silent.

The next five minutes in the car were silent.

And then my mom looked at my dad and said, "You know, you wouldn't be mad at me if I only had one month to live."