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The Devil Made Me Do it
I love my husband’s family. Stop laughing, it’s true. I feel very blessed to be included in such a wonderful family. They have and continue to be a large part of my support system, through the death of my son and with Boo being gone most days of the month.
That said, I often wonder what planet these people come from. It stems from the entirely different upbringing and values his parents raised their family with than what I grew up accustomed to.
His dad worked on the family farm and at his daily job for the gas company and was home every night for dinner, to ride herd on his family; never missing a birthday or a holiday. My dad worked out of town in the oil patch and would be gone so long that when he finally came home sporting a full beard, I would wonder who the hell was this dude sitting at the kitchen table in his underwear having a cigarette.
His mom taught Sunday school and sang church hymns as she baked fresh bread and cooked three square meals a day, while chasing chickens and feeding cows and generally being a little Molly Homemaker. My mom worked in an office everyday, putting on business suits and heels and was so exhausted by the day’s end the only thing she was singing was the blues.
Our childhoods were vastly different. I wouldn’t say his childhood was better than mine, or vice versa, just really different. He was a country kid from a Christian family and I was a city kid with working parents. Boo never had the joys of being able to walk to the park or the store after school, and I never had the joy of hauling my arse out of bed to go do farm chores before I was allowed to eat my breakfast.
I would pay big money to see my mom wearing an apron chasing a chicken around the yard to kill it for supper.
If I tried to emulate my mother in law, I think my children and my husband would fall over dead from shock if I slapped on an apron and started belting out hymns while baking cookies. I’m no Martha Stewart.
Because of these vast differences in our upbringings, I often find myself feeling a little out of place with his family. I’m not exactly the wife they had in mind for their baby Boo. Not that I’m a bad wife. I’m just not exactly a good one.
Still, they welcome me with open arms and overlook the fact that I’ve got more holes in my body than any of them, I don’t know the words to Amazing Grace and they try to see past my skin which is starting to look like a canvass a three year attacked with finger paints when Mommy wasn’t looking.
They’ve adopted me as one of their own. For which I’m grateful.
Yet when I discovered there was going to be a large family gathering this weekend to celebrate the 90th birthday of the family matriarch, I panicked. Boo wasn’t going to be home to apologize for whatever blunder I was about to commit and I felt like I was marching off to the gallows, awaiting my fate.
Silly, really, as this family is full of kind and loving people. Even if they thought I was a nut job who should be locked into a rubber room, they would never let that show. They’re too nice for that. I could walk around wearing hooker boots and a leather bustier, with my hair in a mohawk, and talking about conspiracy theories while food fell out of my mouth and they would just nod and tell me ‘that’s interesting dear. Would you like a napkin?’
It’s just I haven’t been to a gathering of this magnitude since the day I buried my son two years ago. The last time I saw many of these faces, they were crumpled with tears or sporting looks of pity on them as they tried to console my husband and I. I wasn’t sure I was up to facing the crowd with out my husband’s broad shoulders to hide behind.
I didn’t want to answer the dreaded “How are you doing?” question that inevitably comes up when someone remembers that yes, I’m the mother to a ghost. I wasn’t sure I was mentally strong enough to pull off a family function without turning into a puddle of self-pity and tears.
Turns out, like always, I was worried for nothing. Because I like to do that. You know. Fret and sweat and get all up tight over nothing. It’s part of my charm.
I tried to take special care with my appearance. I gussied up and made sure all of my bits were covered appropriately. I didn’t want the guest of honor to keel over from shock because her grandson’s wife looked like a two bit hooker looking for a john. (I’m thoughtful like that.)
I tried to watch my manners and make sure my children didn’t act like wild little animals that were ready to chew off the legs of anyone who came near them.
I sat with my legs primly closed, and my back ramrod straight. I smiled and made small talk with the hordes of family that descended upon us and tried not to show how nervous I was. It may have felt like they were all circling in for the kill, ready to pounce at my jugular, but really they were just wanting a chance to catch up with our lives.
I think.
I thought I did pretty good.
I got cocky. I started feeling confident. Until an aunt came up to me and stuck up a conversation. She prattled on about writing, and how she had just submitted a novel to a Christian publishing house. Then she informed me that she heard I was writing.
“What are you writing?” She inquired as she eyed my tattoos.
“Um, nothing serious. Just a little here and there,” I evaded, while telling myself to behave.
“Where could I find some of your work?” she asked, genuinely interested by the fact there was another writer in the family.
And with that, I stared at her and shit my pants blinked. Crap.
“Um, I publish online sometimes. Not very often,” I hurried to add. She lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Really! That’s fabulous.” She smiled and patted my leg. And then it came. The question I feared worse than a plague of locusts. “What do you write about?” I could feel the battle of good and evil wage within me.
I took a well timed sip of my coffee and wondered do I dare tell this highly religious, mother of four, prim and proper, rather uptight, well respected woman that I spend my time writing about nipple rings and blow jobs, composing odes to bath tubs filled with shit and dead animals and how I spend most of my time hiding in the pantry drinking wine instead of parenting my children.
Common sense was screaming at me to shut my mouth and lie. Tell her you write about your feelings, the angel on my shoulder implored. The little red devil begged me to tell her about the post I wrote about waxing my beaver.
I was torn. But not for long.
“Well, I occasionally talk about my angel boy and how we’ve struggled with his passing,” I started. She nodded and told me how fantastic that was.
“But most of the time I like to write about wearing nipple tassels and knee pads for Boo. You know, crotchless panties and the such.” And then I excused myself to get the hell out of Dodge get a cup of coffee without making eye contact. As soon as I said it I wished I could take it back. It sounded good in my head. Why Lawd, why did you make me with out an impulse control button, I wondered.
She didn’t try and strike up conversation again after that. I wonder why.
This is why I like to have Boo with me for these types of gatherings. He generally keeps the devil in me muzzled.
Later that night, feeling like an arse, I told my husband what I had done and how good it felt to be bad at the time yet how I was now suffering with remorse. He consoled me and told me not to worry about it.
“She’s cool. She probably thought you were joking. Don’t worry about it. You have a bigger problem,” he warned me.
Oh great. Because it’s not enough that I basically made myself look like a sex feigned twit. I need more things to freak out over. “What? What more?” I whined.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he continued.
“I know…”
“You’ve got crotchless panties and I’ve NEVER seen them!” he noted.
Ya. I guess that is a bigger problem than placing both feet in my mouth at the same time. Thanks for the perspective honey. I needed it.
February 12th, 2008 at 11:37 am
indeed. crotchless panties were made for a party. you were clearly holding out.
February 12th, 2008 at 11:50 am
Dude. Dude. Dude.
You gave me the first actual laugh I’ve had all week.
Thanks.
February 12th, 2008 at 12:18 pm
Oh. My. Goodness. I burst out laughing! I used to have fun above-the-bellybutton, below-the-neckline piercings (that’s how I answered my relatives when my mom would let it ’slip’ that I’d had something pierced), and I just loved them! Sure did make nursing interesting once I took them out, though.
I’ve been lurking for a while, but I’ve gotta tell you, you kill me!! And this might sound rawwther ignorant, but I didn’t know y’all even had rednecks up in Canada! I thought we had cornered the market down here …
Thanks for the many laughs, and I’m glad you seem to be over the embarrassing needle incident …
February 12th, 2008 at 12:36 pm
I laughed out loud with this one. No, I’m not laughing *at* you, I’m laughing *with* you! Bwahahaha!
February 12th, 2008 at 1:03 pm
I can’t do family functions without duct tape and my mom following me with a tazer. I just can’t control myself. I think you did marvellous.
February 12th, 2008 at 1:07 pm
WEll, if you’ve got both feet in your mouth and crotchless panties, oo’s gonna be so happy, he’ll apologize to the auntie for you, girl.
February 12th, 2008 at 2:22 pm
I can only imagine what you may have said had there been liquor involved.
February 12th, 2008 at 2:39 pm
Worker Mommy stole the thought from my tiny little brain. I was wondering (no, hoping) there was liquor involved. That’s why they call us hosers, eh? For getting hosed?
February 12th, 2008 at 3:00 pm
Laughing My Fucking Ass Off.
That post deserved so much more than the abbreviation.
February 12th, 2008 at 3:04 pm
I am glad you said what you did…it had me worried you were going to give out the blog address up to that point! I am also glad you have such a fabulous husband.
February 12th, 2008 at 3:08 pm
I’ve been reading your blog for a loooong time and I love it. What I always wonder is why do you want to adopt now and now have your own? It’s easier. Why not do both? You never really said…
February 12th, 2008 at 3:41 pm
That’s a man for you. He hears ‘crotchless panties’ and all else flies out the window.
And I’m with you on the family gatherings. I tend to get diarrhea of the mouth and say things I NEVER should. Like ‘Wow, Aunt so and so, you got REALLY BIG since I last saw you. Guess Weight Watchers isn’t working.”
February 12th, 2008 at 4:37 pm
oh, dude. now she’s frantically googling you, looking for key words…
HI, Family! Love you!
February 12th, 2008 at 4:54 pm
What no mention of other family members???? Hmmm, methinks you have more to say on this subject.
My daughter told her friends I had a blog. They want to read it. Um, yeah, well NO!
I can’t imagine what my family would think of my blog. Especially my mother…..
February 12th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
Every time I visit your blog I end up snorting various fluids out of my nose. Ouch!
February 12th, 2008 at 7:14 pm
Well. Boo certainly has a good sense of the priorities in his life, LOL!
February 12th, 2008 at 8:14 pm
In all my years of slinging lingerie I never understood the Crotchless panty.
Or the teddy. Well, lingerie in general really.
Gah, now who’s the prude?
February 12th, 2008 at 8:42 pm
Hon. Of course they accept you with open arms. Despite how they may see your ‘unconventional assets’, I know they also see a lovely loving honest funny intelligent woman who makes her husband and her children happy (despite her best intentions to neglect them as she blogs).
February 12th, 2008 at 8:58 pm
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!
I SO hear you on every single word. EVERY SINGLE ONE.
(Totally taking notes for the next inlaw gathering.)
P.S.
He HAS seen your assless chaps, right? Or are you saving those for BlogHer?
February 12th, 2008 at 9:08 pm
Glad it went [mostly] well! I got a good giggle out of what you said though! Gotta love husbands, huh? All he could think about was the crotchless panties!
February 12th, 2008 at 11:51 pm
Oh No You Didn’t?!?!?! Woman you crack me up!
February 13th, 2008 at 4:31 am
Another fabulous story! If only I had your wit and balls.
February 13th, 2008 at 9:44 am
LMAO…that was great!! Thanks
February 13th, 2008 at 10:13 am
That is part of Boo’s job, to put things in a favorable light.
February 13th, 2008 at 10:47 am
O.M.G!!!!!
That was funny. yeah, reminds me of my first MIL.
As fare as the crotchless panties go, nah, they dont work. I mean, if your a buffed bunny, as opposed to a furry beaver, then during the Asian special, where you get to eat one from column A, and one from column B, there is that dam fabric in column C. Or if its a pole tunnel fun game, then the dam fabric scratches, like making love through a zipper OUCH!
So tell Boo to forgetaboutit, besides, its cold there, and if you wore them, and the house caught fire, and you ran outside, standing outside in the cold air, with a pair of hastily grabbed sweats on, your crotch would be emitting steam like a trans canada steam locomotive while the volunteer firemen would be wondering if they should put water on the house, or your crotch.
Great post, Yeah, that other poster said it best, thank god they didnt serve alcohol. Then you would have had to change the name of this post to redchitfaced mommy!
February 13th, 2008 at 11:16 am
You made me piss myself with that one. I too come from a super conservative family (that would call a napkin a serviette) and spend a lot of time making sure I don’t say something stupid.
It usually doesn’t work.
February 13th, 2008 at 1:19 pm
Crotchless panties…is that all I have to say to my man when I piss his family off!!! I wish I would have known this sooner
February 13th, 2008 at 1:40 pm
Still laughing … over your response and your husband’s comment on the ne’er seen panties!
I just about keeled over several months ago when my brother-in-law asked, “So, how’s the blogging going?”
NOTE: I hadn’t told him (or any in-laws) about the blog. Nor had Hubs.
Which means he found it. *shudder*
February 13th, 2008 at 4:35 pm
HILARIOUS!
Thanks for the laugh! 
February 13th, 2008 at 8:20 pm
Ahhh the battle between good and evil…I know it well…and I lose it often. lol
Look I lost it again!
Tag you’re it! I tagged you for a meme: (here’s my post: http://honeywine.wordpress.com/2008/02/13/my-first-meme/)
7 random or weird things about yourself
The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.
February 13th, 2008 at 9:08 pm
Boo is a keeper. But you knew that.
February 13th, 2008 at 10:44 pm
I describe myself as “personally conservative but socially liberal.” As much as I try and by open-minded, I’m usually thinking, what is it with all the tattoos and piercings? Reading you is so expanding my mind! This is what I love about the blogosphere. Thanks!
February 14th, 2008 at 11:58 am
OMG I just snorted Cola through my nose. It BURNS!
Damn, you are way too funny. I’m never drinking pop and reading your posts at the same time again.
February 14th, 2008 at 1:31 pm
*snort*
February 14th, 2008 at 5:26 pm
My in-laws almost went into seizures when they saw my belly-button ring. Therefore, the only ones who know about my nipple ring are my husband and my obgyn… I told her I had a good excuse for it - my boobs are so dang small, I had to pierce it so I could find it!
February 16th, 2008 at 8:29 am
Oh I love you. I’m so glad I’m not the only one who succumbs to the devil.
February 16th, 2008 at 1:22 pm
You’re my hero.
February 20th, 2008 at 1:16 pm
You. freaking. rock.