Here’s an introduction to “the fam.” (This was taken at one of my fav. places on our ashes-spreading RV trips, at the White Sands National Monument in New Mexico.)
Even without Mark, my late husband and the father of our oh… so… charming… teenage daughters, we are still the Fahrenthold-Pittmans and we are still a family. Nell will still tap her fingers to annoy Susannah, who will still yell, “Momma,” in a fake Southern accent to mock her frustration even though Susannah has done this to her for years for the sole purpose of making her cry. Susannah will still shriek like a pterodactyl instead of speak like a human and I will still turn my head around as fast as you can say, “Green pea soup” to scream at my kids, “If you don’t stop fighting right this instant, I am going to brain you!” This will still prompt them to ask, “What exactly will happen to us when you brain us?” And my answer is still the same: they never want to find out.
As I straddle the role of being both mother and father, disciplinarian and softie, I’ve learned that we are still a family despite our circumstances and especially ourselves. My friends call me Mr. Laura, a name tag I now wear proudly–now that I can take a joke.
I hope my readers can too.
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