Ch 12 Sly and Doris do not appear to be grateful for their free tickets or for being picked up from the airport. Maybe we should have told them to rent a car. Ingrates.

Primo drives 90 miles to pick Sly and Doris from the airport. There are plenty of flights from Jacksonville to Austin, but no nonstops. He looked and looked until he found a nonstop from JAX to San Antonio.

“I don’t want them to have to change flights,” he said. “My mom has such a hard time walking and they have not flown for years and years. I want to make it easy for them.”

“Making it easy for Sly and Doris” is another way of saying “Making it hard for Primo.”

As in, picking someone up at the Austin airport requires 20 or 30 minutes each way. Going to San Antonio and back? I pack him a lunch.

(That’s a joke. First, Primo can go probably days without eating – he is like a python – and second, THE FOOD IN SAN ANTONIO IS FABULOUS. Even the fast food, like Taco Cabana, is good in San Antonio. Hmmm. Why don’t we live in San Antonio? Oh wait. There is Taco Cabana in Austin. Never mind!)

Sly and Doris are cranky when they arrive at our house.

·         The trip it was boring.

·         The flight attendants were rude.

·         The food was bad.

·         There was not enough food.

·         The pilot did not speak proper English.

·         The flight was too long.

·         The drive from the airport to our house was too long.

·         The drive from the airport to our house was too uncomfortable.

Poor, poor Sly and Doris. How they suffer.

They did not offer to pay for the gas. The plane tickets were clearly on the house. Primo would not have taken their gas money,[1] but it would have been nice if they had offered.

“Do they think you are made of money?” I ask Primo.

Actually, I don’t know if they think he is made of money. But even if he were, why should he pay for everything for them? They are very from each according to his ability to each according to his needs with other peoples’ money. Not so much with their own. With their own money, they are quite careful.[2]

They say nothing to me about the pregnancy because they are not supposed to know. I am not supposed to know that they told Primo they were not coming to the wedding.

All these secrets. All the hidden anger and hidden issues. I cannot stand it. It’s not like this with my family. Or, if it is, it’s all about secrets that other people are keeping from me that I truly do not know about. But I don’t keep secrets – except the normal ones, like how many men I have slept with – from my mother.

They also know nothing about the maybe miscarriage because it is none of their business.

“Maybe you should just not tell them,” I suggest. “Except if you wait until nine months from now, they’ll just say you were lying about it to get them to come to the wedding. Like anyone would lie about something like that.”

I wouldn’t put it past Sly and Doris to think that of me. Only if they hadn’t thought it through, though. Why would I lie just to have them in my house? Would they be so obtuse not to realize I didn’t adore them and wouldn’t be devastated if they weren’t at my wedding?

I am making my own head hurt thinking about this. Enough.

I made a batch of gumbo for supper, but they aren’t hungry.

While Primo was picking them up, I prepared our bedroom, which is on the first floor, for them.

Did I mention they are sleeping in our room? Did I?

They are.

They will be in our house for nine days and they will sleep in our bed and eat our porridge and WHY DIDN’T WE ELOPE?

I changed the sheets, cleaned the downstairs bathroom, put out clean towels, and put flowers from my garden in both the bedroom (next to the chocolate bowl) and the bathroom. I hate doing all this work, but I have to admit it is a distraction from the main topic at hand.

When my mom arrives on Thursday, she will stay in the guest room and Primo and I will move into the basement. Dr J., my brother, and my sister will stay at a hotel.

If you get married, do not let people stay with you.

Let me say this again.

If you get married, do not let people stay with you. I am already regretting this.

---

[1] I would have.

[2] They need it for booze.

Ch 12 There is emotional stuff between Primo and me that I really don’t want to write about if you don’t mind, and we have to deal with it in the two hours between learning I am having a miscarriage and his leaving to pick up Sly and Doris from the airport

Ch 12 Saturday Doctor tells me I am having a miscarriage

My phone rings. “Your hormone levels are very low,” Doctor B says. “That’s not good.”

“What does that mean?” I asks.

He explains that the pregnancy hormone levels drop when one is not pregnant anymore. That is, if the baby dies, the body doesn’t produce the hormones. Or something like that. I was an English major. This is science. But the upshot is that dropping hormones mean that the baby is probably dead.

(Even for someone who was not excited to be pregnant and who has felt like crap, those words are very hard to write in the same sentence: “baby” and “dead."

Ch 12 One week before the wedding Friday I call my doctor and they tell me to come in immediately, which is not what I wanted to hear, but at least I have really good health insurance as Primo’s domestic partner

The phlebotomist takes my blood. I have passed out almost every single time I have ever had blood taken, but have only myself to blame, as I am the one who donated blood my freshman year of college and thought that the advice not to do so on an empty stomach meant everyone else but me. My body has since determined that “blood taking” = “passing out,” even for blood typing.

Related note – why doesn’t anyone ever believe that I know my own blood type? I am O negative. I have always been O negative. Trust me that I know my blood type, medical people.

I don’t faint, which really surprises me. I do feel crummy, though, because it is unnatural to have blood extracted forcibly from the body and my body has a keen sense of self preservation.

A few years ago, after performing a minor procedure on me, during which I did faint, my doctor told me that I had a “highly developed vasovagal response,” to which I replied, “Thank you.” It was a compliment, right?

Doctor B presses his cold, cold stethoscope all over my lower belly.

Doctor: According to your chart, you are at 12 weeks. I should be able to hear a heartbeat.

Me: Maybe there’s too much padding there.

Doctor: No, you’re pretty lean.

Woo hoo! I am, according someone who sees a lot of people, “pretty lean!”

Oh wait. I got distracted for a second but now I remember why I am here.

Me: What does that mean?

Doctor: I cannot hear a heartbeat. I should be able to hear a heartbeat. I can’t find one.

Me: Oh. Right.

Doctor: Come back on Monday for another blood test. We need to measure it against the test we took today. I’ll call you when I get today’s results, though. And keep that ultrasound appointment you have on Monday.

Me: Why?

Doctor: You still might need it.

Whew! I  might still need the ultrasound! Maybe everything is OK. But man, this is stressful.

Ch 12 So stupidly, I google “spotting during pregnancy”

Do. Not. Do. This.

You will scare yourself to death.

Ch 12 This is not what I expected

There is blood on my underwear.

Ch 12 I clean the house to prepare for houseguests – again, to show comme il faut but also because I do not like living in a dirty house

Me: This is so gross. I can't get the tub clean.

Primo: So?

Me: It's all sticky. I can't get the soap scum off. This cleaner isn't working.

Primo: But it's environmentally responsible.

Me: It's crap. It doesn't work. I want Ajax.

Primo: But that's harsh.

Me: It will get the tub clean.

Primo: That's so irresponsible.

Me: Would you like to clean the tub that your parents will be using?

Primo: I think it’s clean enough for them already.

Me: Good point.

Ch 12 I put together a chocolate bowl for Sly and Doris’s room just to show them comme il faut. Won’t they be embarrassed when they see what good hosting looks like? (Probably not. They are shameless.)

Primo: You can't put my Oreos in the company chocolate.

Me: Why not? This is for your mom and dad. And they’re not good, anyway. They’re just crap samples you got from the Delta lounge. They’re probably stale.

Primo: I never buy Oreos. These are special.

Me: I bake you better cookies than that. I just want to get rid of them. They are horrible cookies.

Primo: No they’re not!

Me: If you think Oreos taste good, you must have had a horrible childhood.
Primo: These are special. They can have two of the Biscoff instead.

Me: You won’t even share them with your mom and dad?

Primo: Oh come on. They can’t taste anything. Their taste buds are shot.

Ch 12 One week before the wedding - Thursday I make a shopping list for all the meals that I stupidly plan to serve our houseguests. No. Wait. The stupid part is having houseguests at all. DO NOT DO THIS.

Did I tell you that Sly and Doris are staying with us for nine days, arriving on Saturday before the wedding, and not leaving until the Sunday after? My family arrives Thursday before the wedding and leave on Monday.

I have to plan meals for those times.

No. I do not HAVE TO. I HAVE CHOSEN TO. BECAUSE I AM AN IDIOT.

I do not know why I am doing this except in my mind, it is the obligation of the host to feed the people who are in her house.

If you get married, don’t let anyone stay at your house. Don’t tell people you’ll cook all the meals. Tell them they are in charge of their own lodging and their own meals. You will be a lot happier. Trust me. I am a good cook and I am super organized, but just thinking about cooking for as many as (let me count) eight people at once is giving me a headache.

Why am I doing this? I am already dealing with Sly and Doris staying in our house. Why are people who

·         Do not like me

·         Cannot even take care of themselves, much less help anyone else

·         Threatened to BOYCOTT MY WEDDING

staying in my house? And then why am I planning meals for everyone else?

I AM AN IDIOT.

Primo: Remember they're lactose intolerant. They drink Lactaid.

Me: Ask them if soy milk is OK. I have to get that for my mom and sister anyhow. They can’t drink Lactaid.

My mom and sister are lactose intolerant enough that the teeniest bit of milk or cheese or ice cream makes them more than uncomfortable. They can't even drink Lactaid. When my sister and I celebrated her getting her master’s degree by taking a vacation at a cooking school in Italy, she just looked longingly at the gelato and the cheese.

She ended up being better off. I not only looked at the gelato and cheese, I sampled liberally. Did you know that it is possible to gain eight pounds in one week? It is in Italy.

Primo: I asked. Soy milk is not OK. Lactaid only.

Did you know that the smallest unit in which Lactaid is available is a half-gallon? And that Lactaid is not cheap? It isn’t. It is even more expensive than Diet Dr Pepper.

YES I KNOW I AM A BITCH. But I am pregnant, OK? And my fiancé’s parents told him not to marry me and that they were boycotting the wedding. I AM STRESSED.

Ch 12 Primo and I discuss The Booze Situation and whether we should hide the liquor. Do you expect your houseguests to buy their own booze when they are heavy drinkers/alcoholics? Is that reasonable? Or is that inhospitable? How much booze should a host buy for her guests?

Me: Are we supposed to supply your parents' bourbon?

As a hostess, I expect to feed, shelter, and otherwise provide for my guests. It is what one does.

JT, my former boyfriend, is a vegetarian, not because he is a lover of sacred cows but because his mother belonged to some weird cult and raised him without meat. He gags at the smell of it. Yet when we would go to friends’ for dinner, he wouldn’t let me tell them about his habits. “I’ll eat what they have that isn’t meat,” he would say.

One of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me was when a friend had JT and me over for Thanksgiving with her clan. She remembered that JT was a vegetarian and made him a zucchini lasagna.

That is what considerate hosts do: They provide for their guests and accommodate any food needs. It is gracious.

No. It is not even gracious.

It is required.

You feed your guests, period, even if you really didn’t want them to come to your house and invited them under duress, and you feed them what they can eat. Otherwise, you are – I will say it – a Bad Person.

But booze. That is a different category from food. Booze is not required for life. Am I supposed to buy Sly and Doris’ booze if they drink a lot of bourbon every night? How much above basic need am I supposed to supply? I will buy Lactaid if I have to, which wouldn't bother me if they were truly lactose intolerant, but they eat cheese, so how lactose-intolerant are they, really?

I don't expect my host to supply me with me diet Dr Pepper. Really, I don't. I know I have complained about the diet Dr Pepper supply at Sly and Doris’, but I truly do not expect someone to buy me expensive non-nutritive consumables.

I will eat and drink whatever is available chez vous. Water is a liquid that works just fine to hydrate a body. And liquor is not a necessity. What is the protocol here? Water yes, diet Dr Pepper no, booze no.

Primo: I think we’re fine. I don’t think we need to get anything. They’re not going to be drinking that much. We’ll have wine at dinner. That will be enough.

Bless. His. Heart. I love this guy.

Primo: If we run out, then they can figure it out. We can go without. We don’t care.

Me: Maybe they’ll drink the Jägermeister.

Primo: You’ve been wanting to get rid of it. I guess that would work.

Me: Should we maybe hide the Good Stuff in the basement? Just in case?

Primo: No! That’s rude. Besides, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.

Ch 12 Sly and Doris say FINE they will come to our stupid, stupid wedding

Primo: They never meant it, anyhow.

Me: What do you mean, “They never meant it?”

Primo: They never meant they weren’t coming. They were just mad. It was just a negotiating ploy.

Me: For what? What were they negotiating for?

Primo: I don’t know.

Me: Fuck. Them. 

Ch 12 We negotiate the gym and entertaining of Sly and Doris and I maintain that I need to be able to escape the people who told their son I am the Evil Golddigging Bitch from Hell and I introduce a new character!

Primo: You don’t need to go to the gym while they are here, do you?

Me: Are you kidding me? Getting out of the house for a few hours every day is the only way I am going to survive this.

Primo: But I have to work Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

Me: They know that, right? You told them you couldn’t take off the whole week before you guys agreed on flights, right?

Primo: Yes.

Me: Then it’s on them. They will have to figure out how to entertain themselves for a few hours a day. My job is not to wait on your parents. I want to enjoy my family, not entertain yours.

Primo: But your mom and Dr. J and brother and sister don’t come until Thursday.

WAIT! Are you wondering who Dr. J is?

Oh this is such a great story.

Dr. J is my mom’s gentleman caller. We have known him since I was five years old and we all lived in the same apartment building in Marshfield, Wisconsin, while my dad was in Vietnam. My mom kept in touch with Dr. and Mrs. J after my dad got back from the war and we moved.

Mrs. J died about five years ago and my mom and Dr. J built a more intimate friendship via mail and phone that has become a lovely romantic relationship. Dr. J of course is coming to the wedding. We love Dr. J. We just love him.

Me: I know. But that doesn’t mean I am going to entertain your mom and dad. They expect us to conform to their schedule when we visit them – actually, they expect us to work – so they can conform to our schedule when they visit us. They can entertain themselves while I’m at the gym and you’re working. You warned them that you couldn’t take the entire week off and they still wanted to come for nine days. Besides, they’re getting off easy. I’m not even asking them to do any chores.

Primo: You’re right. They are on their own. I'll warn them.

Me: Plus it’s not like they would want to spend time with me anyhow.

Ch 12 Sly and Doris want to know what they should wear TO A WEDDING IN A CHURCH

Primo: My mom wants to know what they should wear.

Me: It’s – a wedding. It’s a wedding in a church at 2:00 in the afternoon. Seems pretty simple to me.

Primo: You have seen how they dress.

Me: Can’t you tell them church clothes?

Primo: They don’t go to church, remember?

Me: Please ask them to wear something nice. Please ask your father to cover his toes. Please ask your mother to wear a bra.

Primo: My dad doesn’t want to wear shoes. He says he has not worn socks and shoes since they moved to Florida.

Me: Your dad cannot put on shoes for his son’s wedding?

Primo: It’s a point of pride with him.

Me: Great. I really want to see your dad’s gnarly feet at our wedding.

Ch 12 After a week of his pleading, they are still unmoved. They are not coming and you know what? I am FINE WITH THAT

I DON’T CARE IF THEY COME TO OUR WEDDING! I don’t even want them here! They are not nice people!

But Primo cares. And he pulls out the Big Gun.

He tells them I am pregnant. And that if they ever want to see their grandchild, they will come to the wedding.

Which is sort of a lie.

No. Not “sort of.”

It is a lie. I have no intention of ever letting them around our baby. I have seen how they treat the grandchildren they already have – the angry, disapproving emails pointing out the kids’ flaws and their parents’ flaws. Michael and Maria don’t study hard enough. They don’t exercise enough. Their grammar is bad. They don’t take criticism well. They don’t save their birthday and Christmas money for college, spending it on electronics instead.

Remember the email they sent them about getting ready for college? Just in case you don’t remember, here it is again.

As I have observed, you always have had more than enough clothes, all the electronic gadgetry that was available, unlimited movies/videos and gaming programs. This was true despite the fact that your Dad couldn't meet the monetary needs of his family and that your Mom lost her employment as thousands of others have during this serious economic downturn. When people can't afford things, they have to understand they can't and act accordingly.

These people are not going to spend time with my child. They are not going to make my child feel like crap. The proper role of grandparents is to provide a warm lap, junk food,[1] constant encouragement, and a safe haven. It is not to berate a kid.

---

[1] My Grandma Helen was the source for Cap’n Crunch cereal and Frosty cream soda, which are both in food categories that my mother never bought for us: sweetened cereal and soda. My Grandma Sylvia didn’t cook but she bought the National Enquirer, which was junk of a different kind.

Ch 12 Sly and Doris call Primo while he is at work, which they almost never do, and he is all worried because he thinks a Call During Work means Someone Has Died

Oh you guys it’s been something else the past couple of days.

Sly and Doris are PISSED. And relentless.

They call Primo while he is working. He has been traveling and on customer visits, but they insist on talking to him right now to tell him again that they aren’t coming and he shouldn’t marry me. As if he didn’t heard them the first time.