We had fancy plans for New Year’s Eve: my first grown-up party, with actual (digital) invitations and fancy people from Dick’s work.
Then the fancy people got sick and the party was canceled, which turned out to be a good thing because the stress from choosing something to wear from my extensive wardrobe (mom jeans and polyester-stretch blouse OR nice black pants now 2 sizes too small with a forgiving sweater-tunic to cover the bulge) was matched by the anxiety over whether Martinelli’s Sparkling Apple Cider with a fake-wine topper was an appropriate hostess gift.
(Or if indeed a hostess gift were required, and if so, were they really called “hostess” gifts? What if the man of the house opened the door? I’d make Dick carry the host gift so if it turned awkward it would be all his fault.)
We decided to stay over at my parents’ house because they had planned to watch our kids, and I’m sure they hadn’t gotten enough of us being sick all over the week before. Since they’d already promised to babysit (and you can’t let things like that lapse), Dick and I went to Bombay House, as seen in the movie Pride and Prejudice, a Latter-day Comedy, and it wasn’t quite as exciting as in the movie, which is to say that Darcy did not show up a couple scenes later to rescue me from the wicked Wickham OR from putting the kids to bed when we returned to Grandma’s house.
Finally the kids were asleep and we could play some adult games. And by adult games I mean the debate game Would You Rather, a game that was very difficult for us to play because A) it requires arguing and we are all compulsive non-confronters in my family and B) it asked esoteric questions like “Would you rather have foul but silent farts that you could blame on someone else OR loud but odorless gas?” and “Would you rather sweat copiously but odorlessly, always having visible yellow rings OR have fetid B.O. you could nonetheless blame on others?”
Maybe we couldn’t get a good discussion going because the answers to those questions are obvious. (Blame others.)
Actually, we’re pretty good at disagreeing. I blame the family dinners my mother facilitated so religiously. We talked about everything around the table (sex, c-sections, school, strange patients of my father’s, politics); the only thing we couldn’t do was sing at the table, and since I’ve passed my stunning musical talents on to my own children, I find that this is a very good rule. We also couldn’t read at the table, but I’m afraid there are times even now that I am tempted (like an addict in a meth lab) to break that rule.
Several times while we were playing Would You Rather, I was honestly shocked at the opinions my family expressed. I expected Marcy to make choices like she’s in the middle of an emotional shootout (to consent to date the human tater-tot known affectionately as the Skanky Dentist). And I knew that my youngest brother, Ryan, would be rather parliamentary in his arguments, as he is the only one of us to get actual debate training at school.
If I hadn’t been schooled and practiced in argument by the best (my father and my husband, who in everything else are almost opposites), I’d say Ryan was like a professional boxer at a pick-up match.
Our answers to the less superficial questions were quite telling. Questions like, “Would you rather have your children mistakenly think badly of you for ten years OR have your parents think highly of you even though you don’t deserve it?”
One of my favorites that everyone but Dick and me answered wrong was “Would you rather have all your friends be better looking than you OR smarter than you?” I was going to tell you what we thought, but I’d rather hear your answer first.
Some of the prompts require the player to make up his own Would You Rather query. It’s harder than it sounds; you have to remember that you’re NOT trying for a clear-cut answer. You want to force people to think and reason and explain and justify and cajole and work to persuade others.
Dick pulled one of these prompts. He thought for quite a while, made some notes, slapped the table, laughed to himself. And then, with expectations running high, he said,
“Would you rather break both your legs and be immobilized for three years OR win a million dollars?
No wonder our daughters are almost ready to argue cases before the Supreme Court. With instructive dinner-time conversation like that, who needs TV?
Jane
p.s. Seriously. Tell me which you’d rather: better-looking OR smarter friends? Kids mistakenly revile you OR parents erroneously adore? Silent OR odorless?
p.s.2 Dick’s real question was “Would you rather break your legs and be incapacitated for three years and get a million dollars OR not get in the accident and not get a million dollars?
Comment of the day from Beth:
Here is my own question: Would you rather have your children wildly successful but disagree with all of your basic spiritual and moral values or have them struggle financially and in their marriage but share all the values you taught them?
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My kids play this game ALL THE TIME! Only usually it involves things like would you rather eat sand or live scorpions (and you have to choose one). Glad to know there’s a better grown up version.
And I’d rather have smarter friends. Dumb, I can fix. Ugly, ain’t no helping that.
Seems like it’d be easy to fix ugly, I mean if you had a lot of money and time to recover from plastic surgery. Fixing dumb takes, like, effort and stuff. — Jane
#1: this is tough for me since I’m secretly insecure that people think I’m stupid and so if surrounded by people smarter than me it would only propagate this emotion. However, prettier friends would make me feel fat. As a result, I’m going with smarter friends. At least they would be interesting to talk to and I might learn something.
#2 I’d rather have my parents adore me. I might not think I deserve it but perhaps I would eventually live up to their perception of me. My kids hating me would devastate me.
#3 I’m going to go silent because that always leaves the door open to blame the kids or pets or husband (who is guilty most of the time anyways)
#4 I’d rather not have the money and not have the accident. I don’t have the money now and I’m fine.
Here is my own question: Would you rather have your children wildly successful but disagree with all of your basic spiritual and moral values or have them struggle financially and in their marriage but share all the values you taught them?
I think your question is tougher than at first glance — bec. at first it’s “of course I’d rather they were poor but faithful” but then you think of their being so poor it affects the food or health care THEIR kids have access to, etc. But even moreso, you included trouble in their marriage. Watching my sister get divorced is the hardest thing I’ve gone through in my life (and how dramatic is that — since it’s not about ME?). Might have been even worse if she were my daughter. — Jane
I always try to make friends that are smarter than me, and I always learn something, even if it’s not to trust them (one friend conned me out of a early edition Longfellow collection).
I’d have to go with parents thinking too highly of me. I couldn’t give up my kids.
I’d rather have the loud gas, and here’s an indicator of our high-brow family humor, we think flatulence is hilarious. If I was going out for the day, I’d take a Beano.
I’d rather not have the accident since I hate to rely too much on other people, even if they’re willing to do it.
The show Extras was always great because they did one in every show and they usually weren’t disgusting.
I was looking at the friends question a little differently I guess. I think I’d rather have better looking friends, because I don’t really care if someone looks better than me. But I love winning a debate. At the same time, would debating be any fun if my friends were dumb? I don’t know. Maybe I should be better looking.
I would definitely prefer better looking friends, because I can just tell myself that in a few years they will start getting wrinkles and sagging, but I’ll just keep getting smarter.
I would rather have my parents adore me. I couldn’t live with my kids hating me. Although if my parents erroneously adore me, then my kids might have just cause to hate me anyway…
#3 I can’t even comment on. Both options are equally disturbing.
#4. That one is tough. I think the million dollars. Isn’t that awful?
I’m going to go out on my own here and say kids that revile me. Because, let’s be honest, they’re going to anyway. I mistakenly reviled my mom, as any good teenager, and I think we’re over it now.
BTW, are we secretly sisters, or does every house ban singing at the dinner table?
I hate commenting on tangential items, but Jordan, my husband’s family sings ALL THE TIME! And I mean after every dinner time prayer, family gathering, etc. Of course, they are very good singers, but that is beside the point.
Hey Jane! I like the new look! So, I definitely want to be smarter, what fun is there in being prettier? Oh, and finally one thing that is exponentially different between you and I, we are always singing. Not that it’s good mind you…
Not singing at the dinner table is basic etiquette (I think–after all, speaking with your mouth full is disgusting, so how is singing any less so?) (That rule in your family, Jane, has a genealogy)
I think I’d take the temporary incapacity and the million dollars, which is odd, given that I was somewhat incapacitated for much of last year by a leg injury, of all things. The deal is, knowing that it is temporary would be all important, otherwise, no chance that I would give up my legs permanently for any money.
I liked the question about “wildly successful children” and for me it has a very easy answer: I would much rather my children be poor and struggling. Worldly success has no meaning in the eternal scheme of things.
You assume that a singing person would sing with their mouth full? Or really that singing (the sound) is as disgusting as the visual of food being masticated? I might agree if we’re talking the kind of singing that goes on around here. — Jane
Smarter friends over better looking ones was easy to decide; first off, if they are smarter than me, I will become smarter by association, and who wants gorgeous friends anyways? I can’t keep up with that.
I THINK I’d pick having my parents to think well of me, even if I don’t deserve it. I can’t really see who that hurts, whereas my children thinking badly of me is something I’m trying to avoid.
As far as gas, mine are already oderless, and that’s kinda boring. Why not try out lethal and silent?
I remember a time before Matilda was born .. I had silent farts. Alas. They are now a memory, along with any semblance of pelvic floor control.
(OK, no-one wanted to know that, and my pelvic floor isn’t *that* bad, I can wait, goodness, 4 minutes before I run to the loo to pee after realising I need to).
And I don’t know, but there are times where I’ve been around some reallt smart friends, and felt sooo stoopid, and not always in a “learning more cool stuff” way. And these days, it doesn’t worry me about how good looking my friends are. I’ve always been like one-foot taller than them anyway, so I attract my own attention in a freakish-amazonian way.
I don’t know how to decide between these …
1. Better looking, because really, who needs friends who are smarter than you to make you feel bad when you can make THEM feel bad by looking better?
2. Parents. My kids – teenagers – need no help in finding fault with me, and it’s terrible! I’d rather have them love me 100% all the time. Have you ever been “shushed” by a 16-yr-old? That ain’t right!
3. Silent – because, like you, easier to blame on someone else.
4. Hmmm, depends on how much pain. If it was like “ouch, this hurts, but I can deal with it for 36 months then it’s gone,” then sure, I’d go for that one. I think. Yeah, I’m gonna have to keep thinking about this one.
My friends are already better-looking and smarter, but I think I’d like to stick to better-looking in general. Parents erroneously adore is one I’d like because I’ve always had a hard time believing that I’m lovable despite my shortcomings. Your last one is tough. I’d have to go with odorless.
As for Dick’s question, I’d rather not get a million dollars and be healthy. Just eleven days of having a bruised meniscus has got me really antsy.
I’d totally take the loud farts. It’d give me an excuse to not have to work in an office. Plus, loud ones are funny. Stinky ones? Not so much.
All my friends are already better looking than I am, so why rock the boat. I don’t feel I am all that much smarter, though…
Parents are the ones to please. Like someone else already said, the kids are going to hate you and have the wrong perceptions anyway (sad though it is).
Probably I would go with the million dollars–pain meds are so effective these days. The only problem with this is that I would gain a lot of weight not being able to exercise for so long. Maybe the health is the better choice. I don’t know…
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