We are quietly recovering from the pre Father's Day celebrations that occured yesterday. It was probably the best time we've ever spent with Keith's side of the family, but the alcohol did flow as liberally as the old family jokes, case in point-
"I rather like this music. It's quiet and peaceful," says I.
"We're going with the woman's choice. Thinking of calming down the men?" replies father in law.
"Well, it is suppose to soothe the ravening beast, or something along those lines..."
"It won't soothe me!" pipes up lanky brother in law, determined, from the dim recesses of the Dodge mega vehicle.
Keith's father was the most mellow I've ever seen him. He's a very driven, self made man who plays his cards very close to the chest, both in business and in poker. Since his wife had her close call and successful surgery, however, his demeanor has changed. He calls her affectionately, "Little 'un" and is prone to talking in warm tones about how much value "the women" add to one's life and how he wants to stop traveling as much and just enjoy life.
So we spent hours on the wide front porch of their brick ranch, just shooting the breeze. It was lovely and cool, with an expansive view of their wide front lawn and the quiet, brick ranch neighborhood.
We had a pizza and beer dinner at the local joint. A raucous family was also there celebrating a sixtieth birthday party with noise makers. Our family table was equally jovial, where pitchers of draft beer flowed and the grease from the pizza ran down our fingers.
When we went to pay, brother in law said he'd pay entirely with cash and Keith could pay his tab in cash at poker in return. I knew we hadn't brought any cash up with us and had decided privately that we would put everything on our credit card, in order to preserve the cash in checking for some bills that were scheduled to come out. We could easily pay the credit card off on the first next month.
But Keith forgot all about our plans. He made no effort to say we would put it on our card, Instead, he said in my ear that we would simply take some cash out of savings, something we had also decided that we would put a complete stop to starting this month (we keep doing it and it prevents savings from building up).
I was horrified, caught between taking cash out of savings and making a public scene. My sister in law picked up on something wrong. I leaned across the table.
"It'd be much easier for us if we could just put the whole bill on our card," I whispered to her, to Keith's complete anger and disbelief.
But to my relief she immediately went into action, reaching across and grabbing the bill from her husband, explaining. He was fine with it and everything would have worked out right then, but Keith was livid and it promptly became a very public argument. My skin was crawling with the embarrassment of having a public argument, on its own a bad thing but still more a public argument about money, an unthinkable thing.
It was made worse because Keith's brother didn't have the right change to give us our half in cash. I apologized to the entire table for making it so confusing for everyone, but everyone had rallied around me. I was amazed and grateful.
Father in law made the right change and told Keith that no one should never take money out of savings, Keith's brother chimed in and said he only wished he could have savings and that we were paying our half just fine and I kept saying that we were family, we could just be honest about the state of our finances (I was saying this as much for myself as for him.)
On the way out to the car, brother in law made jokes about starting his own bank and accepting only hundreds because they were the easiest to work with, which helped dispell much of the lingering tension, though Keith was still fuming about how we could have just stopped at an ATM and taken money out of savings.
"You listen to your wife, Keith," said my father in law. "You can't get ahead in life without savings. He's getting a little tense, isn't he, Jen?" he asked me, humorously.
"I think someone had a little too much draft beer," I replied with a grin and everyone just burst out laughing. There was no more tension after that at all and Keith seemed to forget all about it.
Back to the house there were highballs outside in the leafy woods, where they've built a fire pit and a slate rock fountain. I nearly fell asleep listening to the fall of water. Well lubricated, everyone then went inside for some AC and poker.
We didn't leave until ten pm, after mother in law cleaned house at the poker table. Before we left we all sat out on the veranda again and watched the fireflies light up over the grass.
"You done good, son. You done good," said father in law gruffly, to Keith, as they sat talking about life.
"I have to have something to bitch about," Keith said later, as they were talking about his work truck project. "I can't come home and bitch. I can't bitch about anything at home because..." Here he dropped his voice and leaned in close to his father in the dusk, "because it's perfect."
"I heard that," I said lazily, from the steps.
"Damn it," Keith said.
"There's that woman radar thing," cried his father in wonder. "You could be talking about trucks or taxes or golf and they'll zone you out. The moment you say a word about them, their radar comes out, ping! ping! They're on to you! Right, over there?" he asked his wife.
"Oh definitely," she said. "Search and destroy!"
He also praised me for the good work I was doing keeping an eye on his son.
"Oh, it's a full time job," I said with a grin, "but it does have its rewarding moments."
It was such a good time, but I feel badly for my family. All the holidays are spent at Keith's family now, since they're just an hour or so away. Sometimes I feel like my family just gets the scraps left over, phone calls or cards or gifts ordered on line. But there's nothing for it. They simply live too far away for more.
I called my dad on the way up and we chatted about my last therapy session.
"I didn't actually bring up her habit of talking about herself during the sessions," I confessed to my father. (I'd been too afraid of conflict.) "I simply redirected her whenever she got off topic."
My father just roared with laughter. "And how much money are you paying to redirect your therapist?" he wanted to know.
"I know it's fun to talk about the Bible study you gave during the mission at the jail," I joked, "but how about we talk more about that shame that got carried forward from adolescence?"
Actually, most of the session we'd just chatted, a sure sign to myself that I've reached a peaceful stage in life and no longer needed the therapy. To be honest, most of the time I used her to verify the work I'd already done. And I definitely had needed that, sometime to say officially, "I concur," so that I could close the book on that page.
The last piece had been a letter to myself that I'd written a couple weeks ago. A fellow blogger had been doing this, and after I realized how much self condemnation I still carried from my first marriage and that whole time in my life, I'd decided to go ahead and write one myself.
It was incredibly effective; I highly recommend it. I feel like I've moved through and processed a ton of stuff these last six months and I'm as ready as I'll ever be for this next journey, whatever it brings. Maybe a baby through infertility treatments or maybe a baby through adoption.
Either way, I'm in.
