Jigitty? Jigity? Jgiddy?
We went back home for the weekend, so I am behind on all things internet. I hope to catch up this week, but doubt it will happen since we are having a Labor Day Cookout of Monumental Proportions, and there will be much cleaning and preparing all week long.
Okay, maybe it’s not of Monumental Proportions, but since we have gotten very few RSVPs from people in our new neck of the woods, and one family up here told us nobody RSVPs, they just show up, it suddenly feels like Monumental Proportions. Do I need to be getting ready for about 50 people (roughly the number I know are coming), or do I need to be getting ready for about 150 people (roughly the number I could have if all the non-RSVPers just show up anyway)?
Maybe it’s because I spent a few years living in a small town in the North East, or maybe it’s because I’ve read so much Victorian literature, (more likely that since I was a very young child during the Maine years), but I’m just really into the whole “propriety” thing that says you let the hostess know before you show up for a cookout. You know? But it’s that same Jane Austen propriety (she was kind of late Romance/early Victorian as I recall) that will prevent me from saying, “Oh! You’re here! Wonderful! I had no idea you were coming, of course, so there is no food for you, but please feel free to at least swim in the pond. You rude, rude, person.”
But, alas, I am probably worrying for nothing, since I know I didn’t do an incredibly adequate job of getting the invitations out up here anyway (unless you count tacking one on the bulletin board at church in lieu of handing them out individually — and right now I do since, conceivably, everyone in our congregation may have seen it; though I wouldn’t know since only one church family has RSVPed and word on the dusty streets is that they all JUST SHOW UP anyway).
Adding to the stress of the “who is going to show up and am I going to have a coronary worrying about it” intrigue is the additional fact that McH’s ex-step-dad is coming for the weekend. Now there is a blog post in and of itself! But let me give you the condensed version (for those who don’t remember the last time I discussed this twisty family tree situation over a year ago — because, why would you?):
McH’s parents divorced when he was still an itty bitty baby. His mom remarried when he was still just a baby, and McH was raised by his mom and step-dad, with only the occasional visit with his biological father (aka sperm donor)*. When McH was around 16 or 17 things fell apart and his mom and step dad began what turned into a long, drawn out divorce. There was quite the falling out between him and his step dad during that time. Quite a falling out. About four years ago or so McH decided enough was enough and it was time to just let it go. So he made a phone call, they talked for quite a while, and he let it go. There has been a gradual re-establishing of a relationship going on since then.
So this weekend is the first time — the first time in 12 years of marriage — that we have ever had the man who raised my husband out for a visit. Additionally, it will be the first time I’ve ever met him. Oh, I’ve seen him before at a wedding, but we were never introduced. We never spoke.
I’m glad he is coming. I am looking forward to meeting him, but still . . . it’s a situation that is all new to me, and with that comes a degree of unease. I’m not actually nervous, just . . . unsure? I don’t know how to describe it.
And speaking of unease . . . TONS of children in my pond on Labor Day. I am happy to have such a nice swimming hole to share with everybody, I really, really am. My aunt and uncle used to live on a lake, and they would have all of us (meaning my parents and their children and grandchildren) out for a weekend in the summer, and I loved it! I loved that my kids got to have the experience of riding on wave runners, catching little fish, and feeding gulls. I loved the hospitality of my aunt and uncle and still appreciate the fun opportunities they gave my family. Our pond isn’t big enough for the wave runners, but I want people to be able to come and have fun and enjoy the swimming and the fishing and the frog catching, I really do; but . . .
I worry to death about supervision issues in the water. I thought about making a sign that says:
If your child is unsupervised while in or near the pond we will assume s/he is a strong swimmer. We reserve the right to test that theory.
Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt is gearing up for a busy week.
*Before all of you adoptive parents get your undies in a bunch over the fact that we call McH’s bio father the Sperm Donor, let me just say: This is not a generic term we use for all bio fathers. It is a term we use just for his. There are reasons, unique reasons. Additionally, we don’t refer to him this way in front of the children, so it’s not like there is going to be some confusion and hurt looming in the minds of our children. Actually, the only place we refer to him as the Sperm Donor is on my blog. So, yes, that means I am the only one who calls him that. Because I am mean that way. But McH is totally okay with it, because calling that man “dad” or “father” is really, really generous.