Today is Friday, and for that I am thankful. I do not feel like working today and I’m seriously lacking the ability to concentrate. This, I’m sure, has absolutely not a thing to do with the jack and diets (plural!) I drank last evening. Which was so totally our friend’s fault because we – Mr. and I – were already in our comfy clothes ready for a night of television and innernets and then he called and said “Hey! I’m back in town early! Come meet me for a drink.” To which we replied, “We cannot let our friend drink alone! Even though it is now almost 8 o’clock in the evening. We must go!” So we did the honorable thing and totally blew our self-imposed curfew of 10 PM on school nights.
We had some drinks. And we talked. And we laughed. And we rolled our eyes at Miss Live-From-Texas – who was in town visiting and found us (read: stalker) – because she does not shut up and has a listen-to-me-I’ve-done-it-all-and-better-than-you story for every subject ever. She was dissappointed by the end of the night though, because when you talk to much and are live from Texas and we are Hello! in Ohio, the friend you are interested in will inevitably find a new girl to take home and show his mattress to (see! look! we can make it bounce!), and you will be out of luck. And there you will have one thing you did not do better than everyone else. Shut up now.
So I did not get enough sleep, and my tummy is a little gurgly, and my head is a little fuzzy. I will magically, I know, feel all better around 5:15 (it is funny how that happens), which is a good thing because The In-Laws are taking us to dinner at a fancy restaurant that I have only been to once for my birthday and it is SO good, especially the venison appetizer I had that one time, and we must arrive early for drinks! because The In-Laws are not like my family and do not believe that there is anything at all evil about alcohol or its consumption for recreational purposes. And that was a really long sentence. Sorry for that.
It was hard for me to get used to the “drinking alcohol is ok” thing, because I come from a family that thinks alcohol is really bad and only bad people drink it. Well, my immediate family thinks that anyway, and I believed that growing up. I was taught to believe that people that drank were all drunks, and could not hold down jobs, and got divorced, and had to go on welfare and then their brains turned into jello and then their livers exploded. The end. Now I know that this is not true. I know that people can consume without being losers. That not everyone is a total drunk. My family however, still believes all that. Nobody can drink just one or two, they have to have twenty and throw up! There is no such thing as moderation! Do not be ridiculous! People only golf to drink! (My brother actually said that. For real.)
So now I am allowed to drink alcohol in front of adults. (Forgetting that I, myself, I am indeed an adult, because that is another carryover from my childhood that was pounded into my brain. I am the child, and will forever be a child, even when I am 62, and my mom will still ask me when I visit if I am thirsty and would I like a pop or lemonade?) I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, except I think maybe it is that it bothers me that I still feel like a little girl around my family, like I hit the age of 12 and never made it past it. And then I get to change gears around the Mr.’s family, and suddenly I am a grownup and I can do what I want because I do go to work and pay my bills, and I wonder if I am the only one who feels this way, or if this happens a lot. Because sometimes I think maybe my mom screwed me up a little bit. And the older I get, the more I think that maybe they AREN’T so normal, because a lot of the people I know – like most of the people I know – are more like me and Mr. than they are like my mom and dad.
Like at our reception. Very casual. At the bar, because our friend owns it and did not charge us to rent the space and it has a nice big patio. I remember being so uncomfortable because my family was there, and how they basically made themselves outcasts. They sat in a corner away from everyone, and only talked to a few people. They weren’t directly rude or mean to anyone, but they definitely did not make any effort whatsoever to mingle with those who held the liquid of Satan in their hands. Then (Oh my God I get so embarrassed just remembering this part), there was karaoke inside. My family – my mom, dad, brother, and sister-in-law (who is, coincidentally, the pastor’s daughter) – PULLED THEIR CHAIRS IN FRONT OF THE WINDOW AND SAT THERE. In a line. And stared in at the people singing. Like they were at the zoo or something. And they have no clue how ridiculous they looked. I was mortified. Everyone was all, “what’s up with them?” and I shrugged it off with an “Oh, they don’t get out much,” but inside I was screaming “Go home! Please! Just leave! Make it stop!” Finally, they did leave, and I could relax, and enjoy myself.
Isn’t that horrible to feel that way about your own family? It’s too bad they have to be so judgmental.