One of the many ways I describe Angie is as a highly medicated free spirit. In our family’s world there are three ways of doing things. The right way, the wrong way, and anyway Angie sees fit. In Angie’s way, logic is conveniently left out, as is quite a lot of forethought and planning.
My first encounter with Angie’s unique style occured when we were going out to dinner with my parents early in our our courtship. I noticed a large lump of hair at the inside knee area of her pantyhose. My first thought was that she had a rare condition that indicated an encounter with a werewolf in the past. I decided it was better just to ask her as I didn’t relish the thought of my face being chewed off, well at least not in a good way. When I pointed out this furry phenomenon (side point – her maiden name was Furry) she exclaimed with her usual “Oh!” and proceeded to reach down her pantyhose to remove the offending item right there and then. This was not what I expected as we had only reached first base in our relationship and I wasn’t quite sure if this was even on the normal playlist. Maybe it could be referred to as a shortstop or foul ball but I was quite sure it didn’t involve any of the then known “base system” in the 1970‘s dating manual.
My youngest son, Tristan came home one summer day along with one of his buddies to discover mom in the backyard cleaning the pool in a bathing suit top and granny panties. The young friend, knowing of the Angie way, was quite impressed but greatly disturbed at the same time. Tristan of course was mortified and urgently requested that his mother please put some clothes on.
“I have clothes on and what are you doing home so early?” was his mother’s reply.
No explanation was offered for the unique outfit.
On another occasion , I was getting after Tristan for his hair style which was at that time a cross between the Beatles and Ozzy Osbourne with a hint of Billy Idol thrown in. Of course Angie heard this and reacted in her protective momma bear way by running out of the bedroom into the living room and exclaiming:
“Derek! Leave him alone!”
“Mom!” exclaimed her son “You’re in your underwear!”
“Oh!” said the momma bear as she beat a hasty retreat to her den.
Tristan’s worst experience occured after he moved out. I had asked him to come over to the house earlier than usual because we had a big job that day. Unfortunately I forgot to inform the mother person. Tristan came in at 7:00 am and sat on the couch waiting for me. I, however, was still sleeping as I had also forgotten about the early start. His mother got up, dressed as usual in her standard sleeping attire known as “commando”, to make her morning trek to the bathroom. She walked out of our room and while framed perfectly in the hallway entrance she turned full front to her shocked son sitting on the couch and said:
“What are you doing here?”
She then continued her bathroom trek. When she came out of the bathroom she was thankfully covered by a robe and turned to her now catatonic son and suggested he go home and look at some porn to get the image out of his mind.
Our #3 child, Ashley, has been the most affected by her mother’s clothing optional world, however, with constant therapy and counseling we able to get her through it. She holds the record in “naked mom” sightings.
When Ashley was a teenager she reached that point of normal annoyance with her parents but especially her mother, which all 16 year old females do. My daughter’s pet peeve was that her mother insisted that she kept her bedroom windows shut at night as Angie was afraid of intruders entering to molest her. If this happened I would fear for the intruder as Ashley can get quite violent, not to mention physical, when rudely awakened.
One night Angie woke me up from a sound sleep to inform me that she was sure Ashley had left the window open again. She wanted me to go check it out. As this was not one of my greatest concerns, and the fact that she woke me up, I was not willing to comply. Angrily muttering to herself about her useless husband as she got up and grumbled “Fine! I’ll do it myself!”
As already stated, Angie was wearing the fashionable “commando” style she always slept in. She crept into Ashley’s room only to discover that her dark suspicions were correct, the window was indeed open. My beloved wife decided to lean across our sleeping daughter to shut it. She did not realize that Ashley had left a glass of water on the windowsill. Of course, gravity being what it is, and the fact that Angie is involved, the water ends up being spilled onto Ashley’s head. Ashley rose up her head to begin protesting her rude awakening only to have her cheek slapped with a hanging mom boob as her mother tried to beat a hasty retreat. This produced screams and shouting from both of them. I heard this from my room and happily rolled over and put my pillow over my head until the ruckus died down, grateful that I was not involved. Angie didn’t say anything when she slipped back into bed but it took 2 days for Ashley to come out of the fetal position she assumed after this event.
It was within two weeks of this fiasco that Angie again awakened me to tell me that she, again, was sure that Ashley had left her window open. My response was the same as usual:
“Let them take her”.
Angie of course decided to go check it out herself and crept out of our room to peek into Ashley’s room. The sight that greeted my daughter as she returned from the kitchen with her glass of water was a clear view of her mother’s bare backside as she poked her head into her room.
“OH MY GOD!….. MOM!” she shouted.
This started Angie screaming, the water flew out, resulting in more screaming and yelling, more therapy for Ashley and another story for me.