Twinkle: Gossip and Gluttony, the Glue that Binds Families Together

In my family, every event begins with a 2-hour bacchanalian orgy of appetizers. There is a huge table of them, and everyone crowds around with a festive spirit and completely without shame. We gossip, laugh, and drink wine for so long that, by the time the meal is finally served, every appetizer plate and bowl is scraped clean and we are all so tipsy and full and exhausted from laughing that no one really cares what's for dinner.

That's just another reason why Mr. Twinkle's family is so foreign to me. There are never any cocktails or appetizers at his mother's house, which always makes for a sober and dour time. But I'm here to talk about his grandmother's house.

She serves a tiny tray of little hot dogs in a puff pastry and other little things like that, on a tiny little table in the corner of her den. You walk into the room and everyone is sitting down (always an atmosphere-killer), usually in silence, just watching anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table. I feel completely awkward helping myself to whatever veggie option is there (y'all know I only eat humane meat, and I doubt those little hot dogs lived happy lives). Anyone who dares to approach the appetizer table more than once is judged, so by the time the meal is served, there is still half a tray of sad little hot dogs sitting there all lonely.

My family would have polished off those sons-of-bitches in three minutes flat.

Tonight Mr. Twinkle's cousin dared to have more than one of them, and that girl's grandmother, the high-strung Aunt Irene, said all judgmentally, "You're not going to be hungry for dinner," as if this girl were a child, which she is not. For me, it's all about the appetizers; I couldn't care less what's for dinner (especially there, where all they ever serve is meat that I don't eat and some flavorless vegetable without any seasoning). So what if you're not hungry for dinner? As an adult, it's your business, not Aunt Irene's.

I think that they are missing out on festive, gossipy times around a bowl of dip. Of course, my dour MIL would never think of being catty and would never gossip for the sheer pleasure of it. The closest she gets is when she's fired up with righteous indignation about something-or-other, or when she judges someone for having too many children too close together. Her self-control around the decadent desserts (that she personally makes but rarely indulges in) mirrors her self-control regarding cattiness. In my family, the girls will sit around a plate of brownies/bowl of M&Ms/log of cheese and dish, gossip, and laugh until someone says, "Take these M&Ms away from me," and shoves them down the table for someone else to gorge on. (This is slightly different from the orgiastic feast of cocktail hour...it still involves a measure of gluttony but it's a more intimate setting).

And that is what I want for my children. When my girls are older I want them to, occasionally, sit down at the kitchen table with me and tell me funny stories and not be afraid to indulge in cattiness and more than one brownie. Not all the time, of course--I want them to be healthy and well and not morbidly obese, naturally--but I honestly think that's how memories are made and that's how relationships stay close. Maybe if my inlaws were less judgy and more fun, I would have that kind of relationship with them--I honestly wish it were possible. But the opportunity is never there, because the family culture is hostile to gluttony and gossip. It's their grievous loss.

Julep: anxiety

OK, I've gone from being very hopeful and excited to being a ball of anxiety. I started off worrying about what I would do when they hand me a newborn to take home -and now I am principally worried that they won't.

The birthmother missed a lawyer's appointment on Friday, which could be a simple scheduling snafu (she originally had an appointment at the agency on Friday which was moved up, and personally I didn't realize there was a separate appointment with the lawyer, so maybe she didn't either) or it could be that she is having second thoughts. I and my stomach lining do not need this kind of stress.

I think part of the problem is that I feel like I am in the first trimester "we're hopeful and excited but we know to be cautious because things could go bad suddenly" phase, but because of the timing, I have to act like I am in the third trimester "there's a baby coming any day, arrange your schedule accordingly and set up the nursery" phase.

I had to call two sets of other lawyers and the court and move a trial date yesterday. It made me want to throw up. If I tell all these strangers that we are expecting a baby and then she changes her mind and we don't get one after all, I'm going to look completely pathetic. And I don't mind looking pathetic to you girls, but it's not the kind of laundry I like to air with people I hardly know.

As I said to LoLa the other day, I know the Lord is working for the best, and if that means I get a heaping dose of humility instead of a baby, well - I probably need it. But it isn't going to be fun.

Julep: big news

We have been matched with a birthmother - the baby is due Nov 2 and she's already having contractions so nobody thinks it will be that long. The baby is a boy - the birthmother is biracial and the father is either biracial or white (there's more than one candidate).

We are keeping this news a little quiet until we have the baby actually in our hands ... I can't help feeling a little superstitious and I don't want to jinx anything. But the birthmother appears to be fully committed to adoption, her family is supporting that decision, and the birthfather candidates are uninterested in parenting. So far, everything looks good - no health concerns, she's had all her prenatal care, etc.

Keep us in your prayers and I will keep you posted!

Julep: All you can do is laugh...

I had a nice chat with Mr-Sister yesterday, trying to come up with ideas for Mr-Mama's impending birthday. I am truly awfully fond of her. But when I heard that she's been spending most of her free time with the horse she just bought ... well, re-read the "impartiality" post below. Sometimes a sense of humor is all I can muster.

Julep: Really?

Let me put forth a hypothetical.

If one of you girls - hypothetically speaking of course, as you would never - were to get quite tipsy at someone's post-Big Race party back in May, and were to stumble into the wall and knock into someone's lovely framed triptych of family wedding photos, breaking the frame into several pieces ...

... and you gave many drunken apologies and promises to pay for said frame ...

... and then failed to remember it once you sobered up ...

... and then several months later, your hosts delicately inquired if you might be willing to have this frame repaired ...

... would you think it was appropriate to go to Kohl's and buy a budget three-photo frame to replace the one you broke? And when it turned out that the 4x6 cut-outs in the budget frame were just a bit too large for the photos, since they are wedding photograper prints and an odd size, and your hosts gently explained that in fact, the only way to replace the item you broke was to take the whole thing to a frame shop where the wooden frame could be replaced (and fortunately, the mat and glass were undamaged)...

... what would you do next? Would you take your @$$ back to Kohl's and find another budget frame that isn't even the same color wood as the frame you broke, of totally different dimensions, with a cheap-looking mat with 3 1/2x5 cut-outs that are ever so slightly too small for the photos; put the photos in it; leave it on your hosts' doorstep; and keep all of the pieces that your hosts might have taken to the frame shop themselves if they didn't like your budget alternative?

You wouldn't? Really? Imagine that.

Julep: Impartiality

Sometimes the Mr-Family is a real mystery to me. Mr. J and his sister are both kind, warm, fun, smart, attractive, hard-working, lovely people. They have a really nice relationship with each other, and I think either of them would say that he or she also has a really nice relationship with the Mr-parents. However. The inequitable treatment of these two Mr-progeny is really astounding. Here's the most recent example.

Mr. J has been driving his 1998 Ford Ranger pickup for a long time now, and although he loves that truck, it is on the verge of being impractical. Most importantly, it won't accommodate two adults and a child seat. We knew this day was coming, and we've been scrupulously saving for a new vehicle for the past four years. He moved into an active-shopping mode last month. Although Mr. J has never had a new new car, and he would have dearly loved a 2011 model with a navigation system and the new Eco-Boost engine, he finally found a three-year-old Ford F-150 with a crew cab (so it has a back seat) that after taxes came in just over our budget. So we wrote the check.

Meanwhile, Mr-Sister has been driving a shiny new little BMW since 2005, a gift from her parents when she graduated college. She carts around a lot of large equipment around for her sales job at Mr-Company, and she recently decided she needed to trade the little BMW for an SUV. But money was tight as she spent quite a bit on her home renovations last year and (sadly) had a lot of vet bills this summer. Instead of trading in that Beemer - blue book value, $10k - for a used SUV, Mr-Sister is happily tooling around in a brand-new top-of-the-line Dodge Durango. Friends, this is a $50,000 car. Even a helluva negotiator couldn't get it for under $40k. Mr-Sister's cost? Free. She got Mr-Papa to buy it for her "as a company car."

Now, none of the rest of the sales force at Mr-Company has a company car. And you can bet your bottom dollar that if Joe Salesman down in Hopkinsville decided his old vehicle really wasn't suitable for the demands of his employment, he'd have to trade in the old one and take out a loan for something bigger. He wouldn't be getting a company car - and if he did it wouldn't cost $50k (what with the all-leather interior, satellite radio and nav), and it wouldn't get 12 mpg to be charged to his company gas card. Mr-Papa didn't buy Mr-Sister that fancy new ride because she is his employee. He bought it because she's his kid - and it's his company, more power to him if he wants to give her special treatment. But you know, he has two kids.

What do you want to bet that Mr-Sister pockets the money when she sells the Beemer? Meanwhile, not only did we buy the used truck we could afford, we are scrimping and saving to pay for an adoption as the Mr-parents are well aware.

I can't complain about this too much with Mr. J - I don't want to taint him. He is truly the best-hearted person I know. When he heard about Mr-Sister's new car, he did need a moment outside by himself with a cigarette. But then when he came back in, he only said that his parents have been good to him all his life and he has no room to complain that they haven't given him enough. And when Mr-Sis came over to show him the new ride, he happily fussed over every inch of it with her.

The Mr-parents have no idea how lucky they are. A less-beautiful soul would have been eaten up by this blatant partiality; he would be full of bitterness and rage at this uneven treatment. It's nearly too much for me, and it's not even my family. Mr-Sister is totally oblivious to the iniquity, and I have gently tried to raise it with her. She knows her parents are good to her, but doesn't even notice how good her brother is. My sisters would have tossed her out the back of the van and left her for dead years ago.

I wouldn't mind the Mr-parents giving Mr. J so much less financially if they valued him otherwise, or even acknowledged that they aren't fair to their kids. But they don't. Mr-Sister is their golden child while they pick at him about not working regular hours and not earning more, like he's some kind of free-loader. They never say they respect him for not asking them for money, or tell him what a wonderful loving person he is. I tell him ... but I would like to knock their heads together.

Julep: Where have all the bloggers gone?

We have all been laying down on the job here. I don't know about the rest of you but I need the regular pick-me-up of reading a snarky blog post. So I'll go first.

Here's a little fun reading material for you: God's Blog and a little piece from a magazine I have never heard of, called Garden & Gun.

The latter is a manifesto about the endurance of the Southern Belle ... to quote the article: "Fundamentally, no matter what the circumstance, Southern women make the effort. Which is why even the girls in the trailer parks paint their nails. And why overstressed working moms still bake three dozen homemade cookies for the school fund-raiser. And why you will never see Reese Witherspoon wearing sweatpants. Or Oprah take a nap." Let me air my pet theory y'all have probably heard before: to be a real Southern woman, one must be raised in the South, by a Southerner. The one doing the raising doesn't have to be one's own mother - in my case, it was my grandmother. I think this theory explains a lot about people like my mom, who spent her formative years above the Mason-Dixon line and doesn't quite have the same outlook. It also explains those certain friends who occasionally cause us to collectively tip our heads and say, "What on earth is she doing?"

It gives me comfort any time I see those paparazzi photos of Reece taking her kids to church on Sunday in L.A., dressed in their best. But can her daughter really grow up Southern while living in California?

Discuss.