Sandy Supposes....

Oh, come on... a catchphrase?

PROMPT: Talk Tuesday! Do you have a catchphrase? Something you find yourself saying often, or are known for saying? How did it come to be?

          How shall I put this? Sometimes, okay, too many times, I mutter to myself. I cannot help it. I have a compulsion to speak out loud even when I am clearly alone. Usually, I am provoked/irked/irritated/blind-sided by something I am reading, or viewing, or listening to. There seems to exist an unending supply of things that induce incredulity. In those unguarded moments, there is an outburst. My eruption sounds an awful lot like "oh, come on!" The inflection is important. It hints at exasperation tinged with resignation, disbelief paired with begrudging acceptance.

         Now I don't want to lay the blame for my catchphrase at the deserving feet of my children 'cause lord knows they carry enough guilt already, both earned and merely expropriated. I suppose I needed my "oh, come on" as an emotional safety valve. It was better that than over-reacting, panicking, or sliding slowly into madness. The pressure had to be released somehow.

         Instead of throwing things that could potentially strike and harm a child, I tossed my words. In my defence, I was frustrated. What else could I sputter when a two-year old chose to climb an unanchored set of shelving, home to delicate, rattling glassware? I had to gasp when that same toddler discovered a can of white paint in the garage and gleefully painted herself and the sheep dog while I was loading a moving truck with our worldly possessions. What worried mother wouldn't be tempted to whisper her go-to-words as she scuttled into an army tank serving as a memorial, to be greeted by the sight of her eight-year old son held prisoner by his arm wedged tightly into a metal hole you later learn is an exhaust vent? Imagine my urge to say something, anything when that same son at two years of age stepped out onto our front porch with a cookie and was mauled by a stray cat. It was compounded by his treatment for rabies exposure. Yes, my "saying" saw me rescue my youngest as an infant after her two older siblings had inexplicably dragged her to the top of the staircase while she was perched within her walker... It was an impulse when I searched for my three imps at a t-ball tournament where I was an official scorekeeper, and I found them sporting, on their little persons, the entire contents of a box of one-hundred bandages. They had inadvertently attracted the heartfelt sympathy of a crowd. Actually, I again uttered my infamous words when I later found several bandages stuck to my car...

          Over the years, my family heard "oh, come on" repeatedly. Now that I'm a grandmother my catchphrase has mellowed to include an occasional ambiguous "oh dear." It is an admission of shock. I was blissfully unaware of this new verbal tic until my hubby pointed it out last summer. He revealed his timely observation immediately after a deer collided with our vehicle, and I mindlessly moaned, "Oh dear." Deadpan he glared at me. "You know, you say that a lot lately. Thanks for stating the obvious. What does it even mean?" I dunno. Maybe it means, "oh, come on. Really? Why us? Are you freakin' kidding me? What's next? Not now..."