P.S.

I should also note that I think I have a canker sore from all the orange juice I drank trying to keep it from entering Marie's mouth that night. Lovely.

The Beginning...

As I talked on the phone last night with my best friend and maid of honor, she listened and laughed hysterically as I recounted the horrors and hysteria of "The Family Summit" (i.e. my entire ridiculous Irish family meeting my fiance's friendly, sweet, normal family). I couldn't even believe it (even as I told the story), and I knew it would seem outrageous and conconcted on a TBS sitcom, nevertheless in my real life. Maggie suggested I write a blog, and here I am. I have grandiose visions of Showtime buying the rights and me becoming the writer and inspiration for a hit tv show to be aired immediately after Weeds and Nurse Jackie. (I wouldn't mind a Monday night spot. Mondays suck anyway.)

So, I've been dating Dave since March 2008, and we've been engaged since November. Somehow, someway, we convinced my mother and the rest of my family to meet Dave's family at the Merchantville Country Club on August 4. My uncle was gracious enough to make the arrangements and foot the bill, and the date for doom was set for those 16 involved.

Instead of giving a moment by moment recap, I might as well just list the highlights and expound upon them if someone (friend, foe, or stranger) seems to be interested. I will, however, preface this by saying that my mother, Marie, is not a raging alcoholic, but rather tends to lean to alcohol when confronted with a situation that makes her less than comfortable.

HIGHLIGHTS:

• Circa Screwdriver #2, my mother stands with her arm around Dave's older brother in the middle of the circle (Duck, Duck, Goose style) of the McDonnell/Daly clan and introduces him to every member of my family. I'm embarrassed, but at least I can start stealing sips out of Marie's drink to hopefully soften the blows of whatever might come later in the night.
• Dave's parents, Sue (or Susanna) and George, arrive and meet all members of my family. My mother instantly begins referring to Dave's mother as "Suzie" and giggling every time she says it. I cover my face, silently mouth my apology to Dave's mother, and order another martini (while promising Dave I'll stop after two).
• Screwdriver #4.5 - Dave's oldest brother, Mike, arrives, and Marie takes charge of the situation in order to make family introductions. Again in the center of the aforementioned circle, Marie introduces Mike to the members of the family, and messes up three of nine names. She also introduces Mike to his parents, brother, and future sister-in-law.
• I order another martini and ignore Dave when he reminds me about my 2-martini rule.
• Screwdriver #6 (?) - Marie leans over and in her signature "screaming whisper" announces that Mike is hot. I ignore her and light another cigarette with the one I'm smoking.
• I think the Screwdrivers have stopped (or at least I've tried by miming the finger-across-the-neck cut-off sign to the waitress).
• Everyone sits for dinner, and lucky me (and Suzie), my mother sits between Dave and Dave's mother. They instantly begin discussing their future (non-existent) grandchildren and have them named before the soups and salads arrive.
• During the sorbet course, my mother lays down the law: "Suzie, you're younger than me, so don't try to hog the grandkids right away. You can have them after I'm dead."
• Before our entrees arrive, this dialogue happens, and I want to choke myself with my napkin.

  Mom: "OoooOOOOOooo, Marie Susanna! Our first grandchild! It sounds beautiful!"

  Susanna: "What if it's a boy?"

  Mom [looks around for a waitress, presumably to order another drink]: "Oh, I don't care. You can name it if it's a boy. Where's our waitress?"

• Cigarette break: My mother has magically resumed smoking, though she has quit six months ago. Marie, Dave and I join Dave's brothers on the deck to smoke, and she asks them if they have girlfriends. They both say no, and my mother proceeds to ask if they would like to be her "boy toys." She hugs Brian and giggles while I look for the nearest exit and contemplate suicide/homicide. God bless Brian...he didn't throw her over the deck, as most sane men would have.

After that, the night really was a blur. Not that I was drunk, but I think I lost all recollection of the rest of the events in the same way that kids who are molested forget everything they learned in school that year.

This is me, this is what I'll blog about, and I hope you pray for me.