I was dreading the wedding today. I wasn't wrong to dread it, but it didn't go as poorly as I thought. Thankfully, my brother's was the only wedding happening. That gave us pretty free reign over the place. There was a set of stairs leading to a trio of bridal suites. That gave the kids something to do-climb the stairs and run in and out of the rooms. (As an aside, I only got slightly peeved when a judgemental person chided me for letting the kids do that. I was peeved because two of the kids running around were not mine. Somehow I got blamed for their behavior. I've got enough on my plate-I'm not going to be held responsible for someone else brats. Meanwhile, what the heck else are kids going to do to keep occupied at a wedding where nothing is really happening? Oh, the blissful ignorance of those who parent but have no children.)
We were aiming to arrive at around 11 for pictures. We got there around 1130. Bekah and Jeremy were pretty cooperative but Doug was having none of it. The photographer wanted him to stand in front of my brother and his wife. I convinced her that wasn't going to happen.
I believe she got one shot of him looking at the camera. In the rest of the shots, he is writhing to get free. As we were taking pictures, my parents, grandma and uncle arrived. My brother was hoping for a picture of all of us but Doug took off and I was off after him. (We never did take a picture of all of us.)
Mealtime was a challenge. I had hoped for a high hair for Doug but no dice. He doesn't even sit still to eat meals at our house. The high chair would have at least allowed Brian and I to eat hot food.
It was a buffet brunch. Pretty decent array of food. I had to go through the line once for Jeremy and Bekah, once for me. Then I asked my Dad to watch Doug for a bit so Brian could eat (which he graciously did).
The problem was that my mom and dad are struggling with the same illness I am. They are just as beat as I am. My dad made it through the dessert line and was done. He handed Doug back off to us. The chase started again. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Into the bridal suites, out of the bridal suites.
It was the second time he got stuck under the settee that we realized we were done. The first time, his shirt got snagged on something. The second, it was his head. No joke. The child's head is huge.
Then, to top it off, Bekah started not listening. It's one thing to deal with Jeremy and Doug being unruly. We can handle that (though it's exhausting), as long as she's behaving. Once she starts to melt down, it expends the remaining reserves of energy we have.
We had both been waiting for the dancing to start. We thought maybe that would keep our people engaged. The problem was it was taking forever to get to the dancing. In the meantime, I guess my brother's bride wanted pictures of the tables. She summoned us back to the room but started at table 1. We were at table 9 (of 9). Brian quickly gave up trying to keep the kids in place. I don't blame him.
It was shortly after that when the settee trapped Doug's head and we called it a day. On our way out Bekah through a tantrum (which just confirmed for us that we were making the right decision).
On our way out, we noticed a minivan with it's door open. There was no one around it, so I decided to close the door. When I did, I saw that they had two screens attached to the seats. I got concerned and we decided to stop back in and let someone know the doors were unlocked.
Let me set the scene. My 5-year-old is throwing a fit because she can't see my brother and his wife dance. My 6-year-old is throwing a fit because I won't let him play on my iPhone. My 2-year-old is fussy because it's past naptime.
I have a license plate number scribbled hastily on the back of a coupon. I am literally going to run back into the banquet hall, give the note to my dad and run out.
I have seen my grandma but have purposely avoided her. Actually, every time we have made eye contact I've had to chase after one of my brood.
So of course, as I'm running the license plate number in, she chooses to say (in her most pitiful and guilt-laden face and tone), "Sue, can't you sit down and talk with me?"
Really, lady? Really? I pictured my family in the van. I told her of the scene in the van. I shrugged my shoulders, threw up my hands and hurried back out.
The thing that's toughest about my grandma is that I would be her if I didn't work so hard not to be. I am judgemental, self-centered and selfish. It would be so easy to give myself over to that, but then I would be like her-shunned and turned away from everyone with whom I'm close. (This is actually the case with my grandma. She is persona non grata at most people's houses.)
So I work hard, every day, to be selfless, to be kind, to work on being the kind of person Christ wants me to be. I don't feel like I owe her anything. I have tried to be kind to her, to correspond with her, to talk with her. It almost always ends poorly.
At what point is it insanity on my part to keep trying? At what point is it healthier for me to just stay away, to stop trying, to just accept her for what she is and simultaneously stay away. Not out of anger but out of a desperate need for self-protection. I make it a point to stay away from toxic people. She is toxic.
So there you go. Tomorrow it's two birthday parties, separate ones, at the same time. I'm going to one with Jeremy, Brian with Bekah. I'm pretty sure we'll need another weekend just to recover.
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