Meet the Family

"We're going to Nebraska for Memorial Day weekend with my family," he announced. "They have a house, on a lake. We'll water ski, bar-b-que, drink beer; it'll be great."

"Okay, sounds fun," I replied, struggling to mask my hesitation. I had met the family before. Even spent a night at his parents' house. There had been a couple birthday dinners and holiday meals shared, but never an entire weekend. An entire weekend in Nebraska no less. An entire weekend four hours away by car, and a million miles away from my comfort zone.

I'm not one to shy away from events, even if they make me nervous. I am soundly of the mindset that everything will probably be better than I expect it to be, especially if I have a positive attitude.

"You'll stay in the cabin with me, my mom, and the kids," his sister informed me at a noisy dinner party a week or so before the trip. "Hope that's okay," she added. "The guys are going to camp outside - the house isn't very big," she explained.

"Sure, sounds fun," I replied. "I like camping; should I bring my tent?" I offered, hoping to find a way to escape the inevitably awkward situation unfolding before me.

"No, we'll leave the camping to the guys," she insisted.

"It's going to be fine - good opportunity to get to know the family better. Just smile and nod," I told myself.

Smile and nod seemed the best strategy to get me through the family fun. But when old family friends and childhood playmates came out of the woodwork to meet and greet, I ended up bombarded (perhaps assaulted?), with more than I could have anticipated.

"What do you mean you don't want children? Don't you think that's kinda selfish?"

"When you two gettin' hitched? He's not getting any younger you know."

"Why don't you take the kids swimming, get a taste of what real life is like."

"You really don't want kids? He'd be a great dad."

"Can the kids sleep here with you guys tonight? We don't really want to drive back into town."

Needless to say, it was difficult falling asleep with a sweating 8 year old on one side, and four other warm bodies in the room with an AC that had been shut off with grandma's concerns that the babies would be too cold. Around 3 am I went outside and cried myself to sleep in the backseat of the car. By 5 I was shivering and tired of the lumpy pile of towels around me so I went back inside and crawled onto the sleeper sofa bed, careful not to disturb anyone, hoping to finally get a few minutes of rest, not realizing that 5:15 am is a standard rise-and-shine time for a 2 year-old.

Exhausted, I begged, "can we please go now." I had survived 32 hours with the boyfriend's family and the four hour drive back to Denver passed quickly as I snoozed away the nightmare.