Note: The following is a monthly column written by young adult writer Nik Davies about life as a mom, writer, wife, sister, aunt, daughter, friend etc. It will run on the first Monday of each month onBerkshire Family Focus. This month’s column is dedicated to the memory of Dad, Bruce Dean. We’ll love and miss you always but thoughts of you will keep us smiling and laughing for the rest of our lives. Thanks for that!
The holidays are finally over. Phew. The dreaded season often leaves me moaning and gnashing my teeth but this year was particularly enjoyable. Not because I got everything on my wish list. Yeah right! Not because there is still money left in my bank account. Not so much. It’s because of something altogether amazing. A holiday miracle if you will.
Although I mention my family often, I have yet to delve deeply into their individual personalities. Sure, you may recall our oldest was a serious handful to raise, that our youngest daughter speaks a completely different language and that my sisters are prone to giggle fits at awkward moments. But I haven’t yet mentioned the escapades of the rest of my family. Just wait, they’re coming. If you’ve been following this column, you may have noticed that centered directly betwixt my slightly insane siblings, my adventure prone children and my own wild imagination stands my “level headed” hubby. He is the glue that holds us all together, the warden that keeps the inmates in order, the problem-solver and the perspective bringer. He’s a seriously cool dude that seems unfazed by what most folks would perceive as catastrophe. Well folks, after many happy years together, I found my honey in a less than cool position and the best part is, I had witnesses!
Holiday dinners at my best friend’s house are always a hoot. With her seven kids and our five there is never a dull moment. Either the kids get up to some sugar high shenanigans and start sliding cardboard boxes down the stairs and out the front door or they all eat too much and pass out. Preferably the latter. The real fun began when the grown folks disappeared into the Adult Cave (aka the basement). After a while, Sara’s husband decided to strap himself into their inversion table and flip upside down. Seriously??? What’s with men and their inexplicable need to randomly flex things? For those of you who don’t know what an inversion table is, it sort of looks like a see-saw mixed with an aluminum stretcher, mixed with a foreign cruelty device. You strap your ankles in, hang upside down and it is rumored to relieve lumbar pressure. After much eye rolling, Sara and I took the opportunity to hunt down more wine and returned to find my hubby, Jimmy and his 6 foot 4 inch body strapped into the inversion table. GASP!
Color me surprised. Why you might ask? Well, because I’m usually the bozo that tries new and stupid things. I surf, he imitates David Hasselhoff in his Baywatch days. I try the trapeze, he’s 40 feet below with his arms outstretched. I play WWE Smackdown with our unnaturally large boys, he warms up the car for my inevitable trip to the ER. He wasn’t surprised when I dislocated my color bone snowboarding. Or when I tore my ACL running a relay race with the kids. He never even passed out when I jumped off a swing and shattered my ankle so badly my foot was turned around backwards. (Seriously) I’m sure you’re beginning to see a pattern here. I try dumb stuff, he saves me. A plan designed by the God’s no doubt. So to see him strapped into some weird 21st century torture device was a bit of a shocker.
The rest of us were chatting when we heard a crash and some muffled curses. Turned out Jim got a wee bit overzealous with his momentum and nearly popped a three-sixty. Thank the stars his size 14 feet got stuck in the support beams of the ceiling or we may have never stopped him from spinning. He came to a halt with his arms and part of his head pinned to the floor and somehow stuck under the head support of the table. He was twisted in a way no one in the galaxy could ever duplicate again. It was amazing! The sight of him brought us to our knees. The scoundrels that we are, we left him in that impossible position, half under the inversion table, feet wedged in the rafters and tummy squished by the safety belt until we had recovered from our excessive laughter. Then we each took a picture with him while he cursed us to eternal damnation. Out of the kindness of our hearts, we called the kids down so they each could take a picture with him too. All 12 of them! We did free him … eventually.
Never fear folks, you can always, always count on your family to get you out of a jam. They will be there to rescue you from certain death, they’ll pay your light bill when your pockets are tight, give you a lift when you run out of gas and they’ll even nurse you back to health when you think you’re on your death bed, but don’t be offended if they laugh their heads off at your silliest predicaments or collect blackmail photos before they lend a helping hand!