The Skeleton Twins: Movie Review

forbes.com

Since we are Catholic, mass “counts” for us if we go at 5:00pm on Saturdays. Never mind the loop hole sentiment, or screams of “Technicality!!!”, it works, and leaves us with Sunday mornings free. We often use them for movie dates. 

This morning, we saw a brand spanking new movie called The Skeleton Twins starring several traditionally hilarious actors like Kristen Wiig (my girl crush) and Bill Hader from SNL, Luke Wilson, and Ty Burrell (of Modern Family fame). Each is funny with impeccable comedic timing in most everything in which they star, just not in this movie. 

Don’t get me wrong, there are humorous exchanges and interactions. This movie is not about that though.

It is about siblings who were once close, grew apart, then are reunited under-less-than-desirable circumstances. It’s about trying to live your life. It’s about hurting, and hurting others. How parents, or other adults, can really fuck up kids in horrific, insensitive, and destructive ways by the decisions they make, or their actions, then it is up to those adult children to puzzle piece their lives back together again as best as they can. It’s about making mistakes, forgiving, and fucking up again. Try and wrap that up, and slap on a bow. Yet somehow, they share laughs. And we strangely laughed with them. 

The dialog was surprisingly intimate, and I felt like a “fly on the wall” observing these obviously sensitive and deeply connected siblings. They had an “us against the world” things going on. Though at one point, I was sick to my stomach, uncomfortable, with a strong desire to flee. Maybe I am being dramatic but it is how I felt for a brief time.

It is an intense movie with extremely strong, and disturbing subject matter. I don’t want to say too much so as not to spoil, but I found a review in Forbes magazine that describes it as “comedy and tragedy in perfect proportions”. In my opinion, the proportions are debatable (it was more dramatic to me), but there are both in this movie, and I highly recommend it (so long as you know there are trigger points in it as well).

So why did I stay? 

I stayed because I liked this film despite the bout(s) of nausea. Maybe because of it. Maybe I loved it. Yeah, I think I did.

The Sense of an Ending

It took some getting used to in the beginning but it’s my father-in-law’s way of greeting women he cares about. He “pecks” directly on the lips.  Men get strong German handshakes (even his boys). That’s about the extent of his touchy feely displays of affection. He’s not a hugger.

He’s only said, “I love you.” to me three times in the 24 years I’ve been married to his son. It’s never been necessary. I know how he feels about me. He reserves the expression, I recognize, for his children and grand children. It doesn’t hurt me. That’s more important anyway.

I do remember each and every time he’s said it, nevertheless.

(He said, “I love you.” at the memorial service after Nan died, his wife of 50 years and my husband’s mother, almost nine years ago.)

Once Nan passed away, the family “glue” dissipated. Someone needed to step up, hold things together and no one did for far too long. The family dynamics changed. Things happened. Relationships unraveled as they wont to do when they're not tended to carefully.

Families are complicated creatures, aren’t they?

(He said, “I love you.” eight years ago.)

It followed a heart breaking conversation in which I told him something he needed to know after his quickly timed re-marriage. I will never completely understand why it was placed in my hands but it was. Maybe they were afraid to hurt his feelings. I did it and it was hard as hell.

(He said, “I love you.” this last Saturday.)

You see, he’s sick.

I’ve purposely stayed away for my own reasons and haven’t seen him since Thanksgiving. And as difficult as it is to admit, I recently had my husband drop me off at Costco while he stopped by. My husband understands my reasons. I felt like crap.

So I didn’t tell my husband I intended to surprise his dad last weekend. Maybe I didn’t want to tell him in advance in case I didn’t follow through or maybe I didn’t want to hear him say, “Honey, you’re doing the right thing. Good job.” I don’t need that. I already felt guilty enough.

I let my father-in-law tell him the following day. My husband gave me a simple, knowing smile after he hung up the telephone. I knew I made him happy.

I’m thankful I went. I’m grateful to have shared a few quiet moments with him all by myself. I love him more now than I ever have despite everything that’s transpired over a quarter century.

And before I left, my father-in-law hugged me longer and hard than he ever has. He told me he missed me and he uttered those three words for only the third time ever but the timing was perfect.

I sense an ending and it makes me intensely sad but I have those words tucked safely away.

***************************

The Sense of an Ending is the title of a wonderful book I read recently and it has inspired me to think about things a little differently. Hence, I used it for my title.

Head over to Yeah Write. Awesome writers, a fantastic community, way too much fun on a weekday!!!

Stream of Consciousness: What We Traditionally Do On NYE

A quick Sunday Stream of Consciousness linked up at janasthinkingplace.com, on Monday. Oh well. Five minutes of what our traditional night (the prompt was "traditions") has been in the past and what it is tonight. It's a bit scattered but that's what I/you get for whipping something out quickly without editing.

******************

We had a tradition when the kids were small, then middle sized, to ring in the New Year. We’d chose a time (selfishly), let’s say 10:00pm, to pretend it was midnight. Was this mean?

It was a simple trick to pull off.

During the course of the evening, Daddy would change the clocks ahead and we would ring in the year when WE wanted. The four of us would head out to the front porch with pots, big spoon and bang the beJesus out of them for 5 minutes. Yelling and singing and banging. Then it was a treat and off to bed.

We were never alone. Most of our immediate neighbors had young children just like us. And putting the kids down early left just enough time for us young dads and moms to share some alone time without our wee ones (wink, wink).

It worked…for a while.

When the kids got a little older we modified the tradition and included two other families, all in the same position. The 14 of us would go for an early dinner at the Sushi House then for Cosmic bowling in the dark with black lights. EVERYONE wore flannel pajamas! We ate French fries and drank Root Beer. Okay, we snuck a pitcher or two of the real stuff, too.

The bowling alley kindly upheld our tradition by counting down the impending year at the 11:00 hour while all the flare of midnight. It was packed with like-minded families and thankful parents. We were home in time to get them to bed then have a few hours to ourselves (wink, wink).

Most years, our New Year’s celebrations have included our kids. And they've always included games and close friends.

This year…

One is in Colorado, boarding with a freshly broken wrist. And the other is headed into the city with her boyfriend.

Dad and Mom are left to make our own fun with good friends eating pizza, playing games and singing karaoke.

In some ways I’m happy they’ve grown up and are doing their own things tonight but, mostly and honestly, I’m melancholy that those shared moments feel like a faint whisper in my ear.

Happy New Year Everyone! Be safe.

Where Babies Come From...

Being a mom for a while now, almost 22 years, I have more than a few instances where my child and I both lost something youthful and childlike. Me...just from a different angle. I know you'll get this…

So two definite standouts stories are when the wheels fell off the whole Santa, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy gigs all at the same time, in one fell swoop. Boy, did I feel rotten that day.

The other is the day I was forced to explain how babies were made to my oldest, who was/is a very sharp cookie.

I think I'll tell you "the birds and the bees" one. I’m not so sure I did a very good job so please don’t judge me. I was caught off guard with very little time to formulate a plan.

ADVICE FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVEN’T GONE DOWN THIS PATH YET…HAVE A PLAN FORMULATED WAY AHEAD OF TIME!!!

Just saying it helps. And it goes for Daddies, too, because you get to do it with your boys (at least that’s how it worked in this household).

Each year, the kids in our schools spend some time at the Robert Crown Center, which is nationally recognized for teaching kids K – 8^th grade about healthy eating, puberty, human reproduction, tobacco, and alcohol and drug abuse prevention through science-based programs.

They do a fine job explaining things over there and we, parents, are quite happy for their support with all those tricked up things I mentioned above especially, you guessed it, human reproduction!

So in fifth grade, all the boys and girls go with a parent to an after school program to begin touching upon the topic of reproduction (in fourth grade, they learned a little about puberty and this was the add on piece to that).

The first half went swimmingly with both the boys and girls together. They each learned a bit of anatomy related to themselves and the opposite gender. Very nicely and scientifically presented, I thought.

Then the genders split up for the “big” stuff.

It was right about this time that my daughter began complaining of a headache. Go figure.

“Sweetheart, hang in there. It’s almost finished then we can go.”

“Mom, I DON’T FEEL GOOD!” she whispered loudly. I’m diagnosing it as sensory overload but I'm not a doctor.

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” And I motioned to my friend, Susie, with my hand waving perpendicularly to my throat, mouthing “We’re outta here.”

Amanda was sleeping on the couch practically before the car was in park. She'd have just enough time to nap it off before her evening gymnastics.

That’s when I got the call from Susie who said, 

“Just so you know, Natasha asked to know exactly how the egg reaches the sperm for fertilization. The instructor felt as if she had to answer the question. So all the girls in the fifth grade, except Amanda, know exactly how a female egg is fertilized. Catch my drift?”

I might have said, “Oh, F-bomb. Figures Natasha!” I can’t remember.

So I will net out the conversation that took place in the car to gymnastics between my daughter and me. She was in the back seat and I was conversing with her through the rearview mirror.

Me: “Sweetheart, I understand at Robert Crown that Natasha asked a question and the answer was provided to the group and I feel you should have the answer, too. It’s pretty grown up information but I know you can handle it.”

Her: “Okkkkk?”

Me: “Well, you know that boys have a penis, right? And girls have the area where their periods come from (I just couldn’t say the “V” word). Men provide the sperm and women provide the egg in order for a baby to begin inside a woman. You with me.”

Her: “Yeeeeees?”

Me, blurting out rather quickly: “Well, when two married people like your daddy and mommy love each other so much and want to have a baby, they share a special hug where the man’s penis and the woman’s period area connect on the inside......of the woman. That’s how the sperm reaches the egg!”

Thinking I’d done a pretty good job with little collateral damage, I glanced in the mirror. I could actually see her thinking for a minute.

But then her face began to change, and kind of screw up. I got nervous.

She sort of shivered, winced and shouted:

"YOU. HAVE. GOT. TO. BE. KIDDING. ME!!!”

Me: “Sweetheart, it’s really no big deal. Thought you should know. Do you have any questions?”

Her: “ABSOLUTELY, NOT!”

She ran out of the car to gymnastics and never brought it up again… Thankfully. Until we had to go to Robert Crown... the next time.

Things changed a little for us going forward.

But I think I did pretty well on the fly. Don’t you?

************************

4.) Describe a moment where you or your child lost a part of childhood (realizing Santa isn’t real, etc.)