My Time-Out

My neice went to her mother and said: “Uncle Hossman needs to to go to time out.”

“Why?” her mother asked.

“Well,” she said. “Uncle Hossman makes bad decisions.”

My niece is 3 ½.

What is it when a 3 year old calls you out that make you feel like crap? I gotta give her credit though, she was right. On this particular occasion I may have said something inappropriate at the dinner table, thus proving her point that yes, Uncle Hossman on the rare occasion makes a bad decision.

But like the world today, I refuse to take responsibility for it. No! I shall blame someone or something else, because that is what is done and what is expected. I take my example from big time CEO’s who often say that well, they didn’t really know and that it was someone else’s job to make sure the orphan’s home was not demolished and it was all just a big misunderstanding.

I do have an excuse. And after being married for 6 years, together for 13 (long story), I am full of useful excuses. I should write a book on excuse making that completely chronicles my exceptional career in the field. From the time I was six and I told my mother that Dad said it was OK to spend 20 bucks on ballpark pizza to my most recent excuse of why the sheets weren’t completely clean for the maid. My excuse on that last one was that my wife told me to WASH them, NOT to dry them. It’s all about clear communication people! Parley.

So for today’s excuse of why my niece thinks I should be in time out, I will blame genetics. This is something that I have touched on before in previous blogs so I will once again bring it out.

There are times that I am socially awkward. Even around my wife’s family, it happens. I can’t help it. I have no idea of why it happens but it does. I know all of her family very well and consider both of her brothers some of my best friends. I appreciate that my sister in law tolerates me and the truth is that I love my mother in law very much. So I can’t understand my social awkwardness around them, even after 18 years?

Please, someone explain this to me. And it doesn’t happen just around my wife’s family. This is all the time, even around my own family. I have created more awkward moments in the history of the Hossman family than there are stars in the sky.

It all comes down to my mouth and the words that come out of it. Most recently my wife has suggested that perhaps I actually think about what I am gong to say before I actually utter them. But that really isn’t my style, don’t try to change me baby, I’m a rebel.

It’s either that I get wrapped up in the moment or there is an uncomfortable silence which I am not good with. Either way, something comes spewing out that should remain locked in the tower labeled “Don’t ever say this in front of company.”

I once tried to prove a point at a family discussion about religion that compared to Hitler, I should get into Heaven without a hitch. I’m not religious at all but that does not mean that I am a bad guy. I’m actually quite a good guy that has made a career out of helping desperate people that are in a very bad way. In my head, it was a good argument. However, when it was said, there was a hush in the room and people looked around like they just spotted Elvis, anything not to make eye contact with me. But I still believe that my point is valid, I’m a much better guy than Hitler.

Just look at my last blog about the witch comment. In my head, that sounded funny as hell. When I said it, I actually whispered it so no one heard it. But that didn’t take away from the funny of the comment? However, it may have pissed some person off. So to you, I offer my humblest apologizes that you didn’t get my joke.

See how I did that? That’s straight from the school of Enron.

So this happens a lot and it happened in front of my 3 year old niece who apparently even knows better than I do. I can’t say I disagree with that for now because in hindsight it is a pretty bad comment.

It was along the lines that Jesus probably wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t eat your dinner because after all, he is dead.

And there it is, there is the silence. I can feel the collective intake of breath from all my readers. I’m even awkward in a blog. Fucking great Hossman, f’ing great.

I have no idea why I said it. I can’t even remember thinking it before I said it. But say it I did. The whole table immediately clammed up like I had just divulged the top secret nuclear codes for the entire western hemisphere.

“Dude” Uncle Bricksalesman said.

My wife just looked at me like she didn’t even know me which I can’t really blame her. I would distance myself from that comment faster than a sprinter from Balco.

“Hossman!” she said, which is code for “I’m really in deep shit. Deep enough that there will be a very long discussion about how inappropriate I am that will result in me attending charm school.”

There was a discussion later with Hossmom who pointed out very passionately that the comment not only was inappropriate but did not help out my Hippy Brother in Law who had been trying to get his daughter to eat dinner.

It was my niece who came up with a solution for our particular little situation, god bless that little thing. She decided that I needed to go into time out and I completely agree with her. It was an inappropriate comment that should have never been said, even if it was a valid point. So tonight I vow to not play any Xbox. I will give the controller to my wife and refuse to play. You will have no idea how hard this will be.

I will spend that entire time thinking of all the things that I have said to everyone and feeling bad about them. I will feel sorry that I called my mother in law a witch when she was being gracious. I will feel sorry that I once stated that I was a better guy than Hitler. And I will feel sorry that I told my niece that Jesus told me that it was probably ok not to eat her dinner.

And to make further amends, I will offer gifts. I will give my hippy brother in law a new compost heap, to Uncle Bricksalesman I will let him tell me how bricks and propane accessories are made for an hour, my mother in law a new broom and to my wife I will give 32 consecutive “yes Dear”s for the very long discussion that I’m sure to get by printing this last paragraph.

See, it’s a disease, I can’t help it.