Top Five #4 - Family Dinner
I apologize for the sporadic nature of the posts. But that's the price you pay when you're working on a novel (Chapter One up at neverfinish2.blogspot.com - Chapter Two coming soon!), a bunch of other projects, and you're Daddy Day Care and Errand Boy all rolled into one. Maybe I can even write about that, or the two moments that recently convinced me The Bean and I have settled into redneck / white trash-dom. But for now, on with the show...
Moment number four on the list of stupidest things I've done since meeting The Wife that she hasn't left me for isn't actually something stupid I did. Unless you count introducing her to my family as stupid. Which, if you know my family, you might (just kidding, Mom!). Seriously though, is there anyone among us who hasn't hung their head in shame and humiliation upon introducing someone you think might be THE ONE to your family?
Anyone?
Anyone?
I thought not.
Let's face it. If there's any one thing family is truly good for, it's embarrassing you in front of the one person you try to seem coolest to. You know how it goes. You spend those first few weeks trying not to do any of the multitude of gross, annoying, or repulsive things you do either by yourself or around people who actually... well... know you. You eat neatly. Never pick your teeth. Burping is right out of the question. Farting or other bodily noises? Heavens no. You don't dare even use the bathroom in your future spouse's apartment for fear of the potential shame. You bathe regularly, dress nice, comb your hair.
You know. All the things you don't do when you're single. Or married.
So, you spend all that time trying to appear to be something your not (cool. suave. clean.) And then comes the moment of truth. You introduce her to the family.
And all that hard work and weeks of not farting goes right out the window.
And, in my case, it wasn't just the obligatory stories about when I was young and stupid (or old and stupid, either). Or the pictures of me as a naked child. Or even the discussions of former girlfriends (the only time I was grateful for my fallow dating history.) No, in my case, my family had a secret weapon.
Grandma.
A little history about Grandma. When she first met my mother, the first words out of her mouth? "So what do your people do?" Blunt isn't the right word for my grandmother. And it isn't that she's rude. She just says whatever comes into her brain. (Not unlike a certain grandson). I warned The Wife of this before dinner.
"Grandma might say something..."
"Stupid?" offered the always helpful Wife.
"No," I said. "Something..."
"Rude? Offensive? Impolite?"
I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "One of those. All of those. But she won't mean anything by it, so don't take it personally."
The Wife nodded and seemed unconcerned. I, however, knew better.
In the early part of our relationship, The Wife's grandfather had grown ill with heart trouble. He was in the hospital for a while, but came through everything fine. The Wife, being exceptionally close to her grandfather, took the entire thing very hard. It was quite an emotional subject. One I suggested to the family we not bring up during dinner.
First words out of Grandma's mouth: "So, Lesley, what does your father do besides having heart attacks?"
Tacky. Borderline rude. Not even correct (it was her grandfather).
Totally Grandma.
She would follow that up with commentary on The Wife's hometown: Utica, NY
"Utica? Isn't that run by the mob?" After being told that, no, Utica isn't run by the mob, that's just an old rumor - "Oh. The mob wouldn't want it anyway. I heard it's all slums."
visualize me, banging my head on the table and you get the idea of how the night went.
Somehow, we survived. The Wife found grandma endlessly amusing and fun. Grandma loved The Wife. Probably more than she loved me (as is the case w / the rest of my family as well). And we would go on to have many more family dinners and many more chances for my family to embarrass me.
Which they have. And do.
Maybe I should let them write the blog.
Oh, the stories they could tell....
Moment number four on the list of stupidest things I've done since meeting The Wife that she hasn't left me for isn't actually something stupid I did. Unless you count introducing her to my family as stupid. Which, if you know my family, you might (just kidding, Mom!). Seriously though, is there anyone among us who hasn't hung their head in shame and humiliation upon introducing someone you think might be THE ONE to your family?
Anyone?
Anyone?
I thought not.
Let's face it. If there's any one thing family is truly good for, it's embarrassing you in front of the one person you try to seem coolest to. You know how it goes. You spend those first few weeks trying not to do any of the multitude of gross, annoying, or repulsive things you do either by yourself or around people who actually... well... know you. You eat neatly. Never pick your teeth. Burping is right out of the question. Farting or other bodily noises? Heavens no. You don't dare even use the bathroom in your future spouse's apartment for fear of the potential shame. You bathe regularly, dress nice, comb your hair.
You know. All the things you don't do when you're single. Or married.
So, you spend all that time trying to appear to be something your not (cool. suave. clean.) And then comes the moment of truth. You introduce her to the family.
And all that hard work and weeks of not farting goes right out the window.
And, in my case, it wasn't just the obligatory stories about when I was young and stupid (or old and stupid, either). Or the pictures of me as a naked child. Or even the discussions of former girlfriends (the only time I was grateful for my fallow dating history.) No, in my case, my family had a secret weapon.
Grandma.
A little history about Grandma. When she first met my mother, the first words out of her mouth? "So what do your people do?" Blunt isn't the right word for my grandmother. And it isn't that she's rude. She just says whatever comes into her brain. (Not unlike a certain grandson). I warned The Wife of this before dinner.
"Grandma might say something..."
"Stupid?" offered the always helpful Wife.
"No," I said. "Something..."
"Rude? Offensive? Impolite?"
I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "One of those. All of those. But she won't mean anything by it, so don't take it personally."
The Wife nodded and seemed unconcerned. I, however, knew better.
In the early part of our relationship, The Wife's grandfather had grown ill with heart trouble. He was in the hospital for a while, but came through everything fine. The Wife, being exceptionally close to her grandfather, took the entire thing very hard. It was quite an emotional subject. One I suggested to the family we not bring up during dinner.
First words out of Grandma's mouth: "So, Lesley, what does your father do besides having heart attacks?"
Tacky. Borderline rude. Not even correct (it was her grandfather).
Totally Grandma.
She would follow that up with commentary on The Wife's hometown: Utica, NY
"Utica? Isn't that run by the mob?" After being told that, no, Utica isn't run by the mob, that's just an old rumor - "Oh. The mob wouldn't want it anyway. I heard it's all slums."
visualize me, banging my head on the table and you get the idea of how the night went.
Somehow, we survived. The Wife found grandma endlessly amusing and fun. Grandma loved The Wife. Probably more than she loved me (as is the case w / the rest of my family as well). And we would go on to have many more family dinners and many more chances for my family to embarrass me.
Which they have. And do.
Maybe I should let them write the blog.
Oh, the stories they could tell....
posted by Christian at
11:16 AM
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