What A Whorable Thing to Say!

Let me preface this by saying I hate family functions. Not my intimate family functions, where it's all love and warm fuzzies with family who I truly consider "my family", but those family functions. You know, in-laws, out-laws, half-siblings, and the other odds and ends that make up "family". Ahh, yes, today was one of those family functions.

Today was my nephew's baptism, followed by a luncheon where we all could share our discomfort of being crammed into the same breathing space while eating pizza. Yes, pizza. A holy choice, don't you think? Anyway, the fun little perk about these parties is watching my parents squirm through their discomfort in completely different styles. My dad, the drunk, my mom, the instant Mrs. Cleaver.

My parents divorced when I was 26 years old, after almost 30 years of marriage. My dad is still dating the whorable woman who he left my mom for, and my mom has since remarried. Other than my, ahem, step-dad trying too hard most the times, he's an ok guy, and we get along ok. Not comfy-cozy, but good enough. My dad and his whorable girlfriend, well, let's say we'll never be ok. It would be one thing if she was cute (she's not) or if she were polite (so not) or even intelligent (oh god, so not that either), but the thing is, she's like a drunk trucker at a ballet. Really. Ask anyone. I can't find a single thing to like about her other than she likes dogs. And unfortunately for her, that's not enough for me.

When I had Evan, I had to go through the trauma of drunk trucker whore wanting to hold my baby, while she was drunk. Thankfully, (or is that unfortunately??), I am a bitch, and did not allow such things, and made it well known that the drunk trucker whore could not touch my baby. So what did she do? Waited until I had to go to the bathroom or something to that effect, and then she would snatch Evan out of the arms of whoever was holding him. I finally learned to take Evan to the bathroom with me, and drunk trucker whore is still not allowed to be near my son alone. Ever. Today, we got to relive crazy flashbacks of this very experience as she drunkenly snatched my nephew from my dad's hands as my brother's mother-in-law physically restrained herself from bitch-slapping drunk trucker whore. It was hi-lar-ious. In a mean, ha! now see why I'm a bitch?! kind of hi-lar-ious fun. For once, I was the spectator, and I have to admit, it's pretty amusing when you're on the outside. Unfortunately, we're sort of on the inside, but I could see the humor in the situation since it wasn't my kid this time.

Instead of being bitch-slapped, however, drunk trucker whore, obviously being too drunk to notice, had my sister-in-law seething and demanding through her teeth, "Go. Get. Him." to my brother, who then yelled, "DAD!", but dad was too drunk to hear him, so then my sister-in-law yells to her mom, "Get the baby. I. Need. To. Change. Him. NOW." Then there is a good excuse to yank baby out of drunk trucker whore's hands in a politically correct way. Drunk trucker whore, being the stellar human being she is, never let my dad hold his grandchild at all before my sister-in-law was yanking the baby out of her hands as if she had the plague.

The afternoon came to a climax when my dad and my mom, trying to pass each other between tables, found themselves in crazy close quarters, and my dad, being drunk, slipped his arm around my mom's back and started flirting with her. Mom, smiling and playing along, flirted back. But only because drunk trucker whore was about 7 feet away, trying to pretend like she didn't see it. I had fun watching her pretend she wasn't watching. Her face, usually a nice ruddy hue from alcohol, became as red as a vine ripe tomato, and you could almost see the muscles in her fact starting to twitch with rage. Oh, does the fun ever end!?! To be a fly on the wall in my dad's car tonight. Ha!

Seriously, every time the family gets together, I feel like it's some crappy Jenny Jones hidden camera moment. I hate family get togethers. When Evan was born, I made it well known that he would not be involved in any family get togethers of those kind unless absolutely necessary. I just don't think he needs to think that sort of family is what love is. Because it isn't. The family he knows, my closest, most wonderful family members who strive to stay together and be strong together and support each other, that is what I want him to think that love is. Because it is. And maybe that's a horrible thing to say, to say that I pick and choose which family members I let influence my child and represent love to my child. He has plenty of time to learn that all families have some degree of crazy. I just don't want him to know that until he's old enough to understand some fraction of it. Call me crazy, protecting my child, but that's what I'm doing. Right now, I want him bundled up in a cocoon of love, laughter, and support- he can deal with the crazy drunk trucker whores of the family later.