Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Plymouth 2013, The Wedding: Part II

I was not mothered by a compassionate person. Narcissists aren't programmed like that. I do remember when I was young, younger than 11 or 12, that she had some pretty progressive political views and that made her, for a time, seem like someone different and cool. But then I grew up.

Hot husband hasn't been able to spend too much time with my family, but when he does, he kicks back and enjoys the ride. These are vibrant, loud, free-thinking, loving people and observing them in their natural environment (ie. A party) is a sight to behold.

Something that he said when we got home made me realize that I learned all my goodness from them. I am giving and tolerant because of them. I can laugh at myself and express myself because of them.

My family sings, dances, plays instruments, makes jokes (mostly about themselves) and generally gives zero fucks to anyone who may be judging them.

No, these are not impervious people. Yes, they have anxiety and fears. No, they don't think they're better than anyone else. Yes, they worry and feel sadness. Their humanity is thick like the humidity we were nuzzled into that day in Plymouth.

And along their achingly human way, they GO FOR IT. And I mean as a group. There is not one dud in the bunch. There may be detours (and some of those may last for years), there may be bumps, but this tribe CARRIES ON. Especially when the wedding venue kicks them out and the paradigm shifts immediately to the after party.

*cut to my personal detour back to the hotel to check in with hot husband and the two youngest Sgueglias:

Ruby and my magical au pair, Mimi were coming with me to the party but they needed to change and I needed to get laid. Two hotel rooms IS KEY, PEOPLE. For crying out loud! Spend the extra $204 to have sex with your husband! Libido sated and small babes tucked into bed with their delicious dad, me and my lovelies were off*

My cousin Mary's house was the destination and when we arrived, the driveway was packed with cars and a half dozen more snaked down the street. I could hear the laughter from 10 yards away. Ever since my grandmother and her cranberry juice & vodka drink flinging in the face of THE ONE WHO HAS OFFENDED died, parties in my family just aren't shitty.

We stayed till the fire pit needed more wood, the guitars needed tuning, the wee ones  were sacked out on couches and the little voice coming from my heart begged me to never, ever leave.

This is love. This is how you get married.

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