A Girl...

Family Ties

My parents are coming to town in a few weeks, and even if we didn't have a list of awesomely fun things planned (which we do!), I would still be excited as hell to host them. The last time they were here was a blast, but that was before Simon, before Fat Stan, before the big tv and the fancy stereo and the music room and shiny red curtain and the thrones, before the derby girls.

My parents have only met Simon once, last October, but they read ye olde blogge every day and thus have a working knowledge of the intensity with which I love my boyfriend to tiny bits and pieces until he begs me to stop. They actually call him Simon to his face, even though that's not his name, partly because they're being silly and partly because they sometimes can't remember what his real name is.

Their relationship with him, although still somewhat new and removed, has been as smooth and easy as it could possibly be, save for that one time they bought him a glass of beer and then thrust him under a hanging lightbulb in a windowless room and said, "What, exactly, are your intentions with our daughter, mister?" Even before that, though--heck, the minute we stepped out of the car in my parents' driveway--my mom was hugging on him and all up in his grill tugging on his nose ring and talking about how she'd totally get a diamond stud in her nostril if she didn't have a job that involved asking bereaved family members to donate the organs of their recently deceased loved ones. Buzz kill! My dad was my dad--fast and loose with the dirty jokes as per usual, and Simon kept up like a champ.

You'll remember that before we went down to SoCal to meet Simon's mom a few weeks ago, I was nervous about how we'd get along. Past experience had taught me that while it's not necessary to get along with the boyfriend's family, it certainly makes things a gagillion times more pleasant, especially for the boyfriend, who should never be asked to choose between his girl and his momma (and especially not by his girl and/or his momma). So it was with great relief that Simon's mom and I got along swimmingly and are looking forward to hanging out with each other next weekend as well.

Although I was never really worried about my parents liking Simon (he is, as you know, eminently likeable), I was pleased that they enjoyed each other's company as much as they did and have since developed the kind of rapport in which everyone can have a hearty laugh over various Inappropriate Topics of Conversation. Thus it is that I'm excited for my parents to spend some more time around Simon, on his own turf, and gain an even fuller understanding of who he is and how we are. Since I seem to be all about jumping the gun around here, I'll not mince words and just come right out and say I'm really enjoying this process of forging a family with my guy, and I'm soaking up every bit of this feeling of overarching peace and calm and contentedness. Now the only hurdle that remains is getting my genius baby brother out here too. GBB, please please please please please fly out to Oakland for the weekend. Pleeeeeeeeeease. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. I promise I won't make you sit next to the crazy hobo again.

As for how it is to have my parents read my blog, on the one hand it's sometimes creepy to know that they know some things, like that I'm all baby crazy. And it's even weirder to know that they know that I know that they know. Gah. In the end, though, the weirdness is worth it. I like that they can keep up on my adventures with Simon, and it's also a real kick that this morning I got an email from my dad asking if they, too, could pee at Will's house on their way through L.A. Lay out the welcome mat, buddy--my hot moms is coming your way.