onceuponarealityproductions

When I grow up…I want an italian father-in-law

In Rants on July 8, 2011 at 1:05 am

When I was a kid, my parents would ask me, “Sweetheart, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

When I was in college and changed my major 3 or 4 times, my parents rephrased it to, “Seriously, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Now that I’m a little more older and wiser…meaning I no longer add vodka to my red bulls or stay up until 4 in the morning and convince myself that I will be a loveable human being the next day….I finally know what I want. I also kinda..and I mean kinda know how to get it. But like every other quirky and patient person in L.A…I’m trying to be just that. Patient.

My parents still indulge me by asking me, “So honey, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I like that they know that I’m on a journey. I like that they know that I left point “A”, but who the hell knows when I’ll get to point “B.” They know I’m trying, and that’s all that matters. But for christssake, I feel like I should have an answer for my poor parents. I could easily respond, “Parentals. I want to be a writer/actor.” But c’mon….lets add a little flavor to it. Let’s pull something from left field.

The next time my parents ask me, “Erika, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

I will look them dead in the eye, and genuinely respond, “I would like to have a crazy Italian-father-in-law when I grow up.”

I’ve known from the time I was a kid that I want kids someday. 4 to be exact. I’ve just always known that this is something I would want. I don’t know when it will happen. Or with whom, and I won’t worry about that right now. Because, lets face it, being single can sometimes be a joy, so I’m going to own it while I can. But if I don’t know when I’m getting married, I can at least make a wish-list of all of the other nonsense that I want in my life. I want an Italian father in law. Someone who is loud. Someone who can make the meek extremely uncomfortable. A father-in-law who cooks with so much damn garlic, that my skin will reek for the rest of my life. A father-in-law with a couple of loud sons who will threaten to beat up their brother if he breaks my heart. A sister in law who is nosey and self-centered, but so damn likeable, that you don’t give a damn. A mother in law who insists that you eat. All the time. This is what I want. I want loud and crazy in-laws who can keep up with my loveably loud and crazy family. Mostly, I wanna pretend that I’m in the mob and sit at dinner tables with checkered table cloths in the back of a restaurant after closing hours. Let’s do this.

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