Family
You live and learn. No past relationship can truly be called a failure unless you learn nothing from it. From my first marriage I learned volumes. There is a long list, but I think one major mistake we made was never introducing our families together. It took us five years to get them in the same room and they all live here in town. I mostly blame myself.
Well, not this time.
Family is very important to Lenka and I both, so yesterday we forced our families to meet under one roof. Weeks in advance, to account for busy schedules, they were all told to bring food and swimsuits for a potluck. It was a smashing success. Fun was had by all.
There was schnitzel, and potato salad, and Italian sausages, and homemade salsa, and stuffed mushrooms, and beer and wine, and my favorite blueberry pie! Mmmmmmm.
What we didn't count on (but in retrospect should have) was that along with the food our parents would be bringing something much more sinister. They brought with them to the table a heaping helping of stories. Stories that invariably started with phrases like...
"When I was trying to potty-train Joey..."
or
"When Lenka was little she used to..."
Fortunately for me, the great majority of these stories were about her. I learned that she hated bathing nearly as much as the family dog did. The dog, by the way, would hide and/or bite when it was aware it was being taken for a bath. She was not much better.
My mom also shared that while weening me off diapers and trying to get me to use the toilet she had to enlist the help of a child psychologist, because I was NOT cooperating. It seems that I had control issues even then.
Lenka's sister Jana also shared a story about how she (Jana, not Lenka) had broken a piece of her mom's priceless tea set as a child and tried to hide her error by patching it with Scotch tape. Her child's brain reasoned that the tape was clear and would therefore be invisible and impossible to detect. She was caught almost immediately.
The best story of the night was actually about Lenka's childhood potty habits. Apparently for a period after being potty-trained, she flat refused to wipe her own bottom after dropping a deuce. She would demand her mother do it for her, because she was grossed out by it. I had tears on that one.
Good times, good people and good food. And, most importantly, Lenka's family is more than comfortable with talking about potty habits at the dinner table. That would be a problem if they didn't. Somehow it manages to come up at every meal with my family, one way or another.
I have a good feeling about this one.
COMMENTS
and I'm so happy my mom was so open to embarrassing me, next time I'm gonna give her some wine so she passes out.
Sometimes I forget why I think David is an asshole. I've suddenly remembered.
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