Oh, brother

Last year my parents celebrated 40 years of marriage, and they are still blissfully in love. Likewise, my two older brothers are with their respective wives, and I with Bryan. Our happiness can only reflect the example set for us during our upbringing. Which, is why, our happiness is such an anomaly.

Every night, our family gathered 'round the table for dinner. We sat in the same seats every time, and followed, for the most part, our nightly routine.

I would stare at my glass of milk dreading the eventual point in the meal I would be asked to drink it or I could not leave the table. It would be close to room temperature at that point, making the task all the more revolting. My mother would yell to the top of the stairs for my oldest sibling to get out of the bathroom and join the family, now please.

"Hey Carrie,"

I glare at Matt, knowing what he would say. He said it every night.

"Hey Carrie,"

"WHAT."

"Mom hates you. You were left on the doorstep by gypsies." Patrick joins Matt by laughing until his milk almost escaped through his nose.

I grin, "The government paid Mom to take you. No one else wanted you."

My mother would sigh, "Stop that. Carrie, you eat like a bird. Finish your broccoli."

The meal would continue with more accusations of alien abductions, forced adoptions, and intentions of our parents to sell us. I had no bones, only thick skin, and my teachers were secretly demons sent to invade my soul. This illustrious nightly education was our routine.

While my mother was horrified by our unending sarcasm, announcing it was 'rampant in this family' often, my father chuckled along with us. He, like us, showed affection through merciless teasing and dry, dry humor.

At the end of the meal my mother would accuse my father of trying to kill us through expired mayonnaise, to which he would agree that was the most effective tool. Us three kids would laugh at my mother's expense and she would throw her napkin down and announce "I quit." She quit her job as our family leader nightly, but always managed to get promptly re-hired before Jeopardy began.

These days when I have dinner with my in-laws, my father-in-law will raise his glass in a toast.

"I'd like to thank my lovely new daughter for being such a blessing in our lives." And I will stare at him blankly, waiting for the punchline.

Recently one night I rang up my parents at their home and my brother answered, he was visiting from out of town. We caught up a bit, talking about our jobs, our houses, and movies we think are hysterical. The conversation winds down and he asks if I want to talk to Mom. Yeah, sounds good, I say.

"One more thing," he says, "Carrie, Mom hates you."

Smiling, I respond, "Love you too, Matt."