moriath

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moriath

Currently out of work, fandom- and wedding-obsessed 23 year old woman. Expect to see lots of posts about wedding, job-hunting, moving across the country (MI to NY) and fandom!

The Talk

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Apparently this weekend (or at some point, but this weekend seems logical since I will be home) Dad and I are going to have to have A Talk.

Mom warned me about it tonight. Apparently Dad is rooting for his family to be invited to the wedding.

I was actually stunned speechless for a moment. Then all I could come up with was "What is there to talk about?"

Apparently my dad admits that his family isn't particularly deserving of an invitation, but I should invite them anyway.


(Yes, I will go Bridezilla if I need to. Not on my dad, 'cause even though he's a pain in my ass a lot of the time he doesn't deserve Bridezilla wrath because his family is made of a bunch of jackasses)

Growing up, I wasn't close to either set of grandparents. When I was little I didn't really notice - my grandparents lived a couple of hours away (unlike all of my friends who seemed to live in the same city as their entire extended family), and had lifestyles that kept from them being very mobile (Mom's side=breed and show pugs, Dad's side=lots of health issues. Why the hell they're still alive is beyond me). So I got my birthday and Christmas presents (that weren't what I really wanted but I was a gracious kid and accepted them anyway) and went along my merry way.

Then in late elementary/early middle school I finally began to figure out that I really had abnormal grandparents. My mom explained some of the issues on her side - they really weren't great parents when she was growing up, and I harbored some resentment over that for awhile (not enough to prevent me from cashing my birthday and Christmas checks though, lol) and have gotten over it in the past couple of years as they have tried to make things up to my mom and communicate more with the family.

But my dad's side...whoo.

Unlike my mom's parents, they never resorted to giving me money for Christmas. Because it'd look really cheap to give me a couple of pennies, or a dollar bill for a holiday. Because that's all they spend on me; literally. I get dollar store jewelry (that's usually a cross or something. WTF? They're not even religious! Never have been, either) or a T-shirt that's a bajillion sizes too big for me and has kittens and puppies frolicking on it. Again WTF?!.

Some people could write this off as senility. But I'm not the first family member they've given this shit to: my mom once got junk mail as her Christmas present. Recipe cards, still in their plastic wrap with the mailing label addressing it to "Resident" still attached. Meanwhile, my brother gets cool toys.

When I was 16 my mom's therapist finally said I was old enough to make my own decisions about whether or not to visit these people every year at Christmas. I promptly declared there was no way in hell I was going back.

Until Christmas when Dad made me. Boo. And while all the Christmases before have blurred together into a mass of cheap gifts, this one I will never forget.

Because I was ignored.

Literally. The only people there were my grandmother, my mom, my dad and my brother. My grandmother spoke and paid attention to every other person in the room, yet purposefully avoided any eye contact or conversation with me. I don't think she even acknowledged my thank you for whatever shit gift she gave me.

So that was the last straw. I haven't see anyone on that side of the family in seven years, and quite frankly I don't ever want to see them again. Because seriously, who the fuck ignores their own granddaughter?! It's not like I'd done something terrible and disgraceful to the family (at this point no one knew about the lesbian tendencies - if that had been out in the open I would have expected being ignored to be the best possible outcome).

So some people may argue that weddings aren't really about "us" and they're about "family" and parents get some say over the guest list when they're footing the bill, blah blah blah. But the stories keep getting better!

Now, even with such a shitty history, I could possibly, if I were really really drunk, send an invitations to my grandparents. And only my grandparents. Even though my dad has six siblings, I would only ever possibly invite his parents because none of those six siblings have ever made any sort of outreach towards me. I'm not sure I could even name my aunts and uncles from that side (well, I know my dad's brother's name: Billy. Well, Bill now, apparently, but he was Billy when I was little. Kind of hard to forget that name. Oh, and I have an aunt Linda who gave me a really cool art kit when I was 8 before she ran back to California and I haven't heard from her since. Two very familiar names over there).

But the reason why I won't even invite just my grandparents is because that is no guarantee that the rest of the family won't schlep along with them. Shortly after they were married, my parents hosted dinner at their house for my dad's parents. It was made very clear that this was just a small gathering for the two kids and his parents. Yet when dinner time arrived and the doorbell rang, pretty much the entire Craft clan was waiting on the doorstep. And this isn't the only instance of half the family crashing a party. And don't even get me started on the alternate wedding reception they hosted after my parents had already planned on having theirs in my mom's parent's backyard.

Oh, and have I mentioned that they're all ignorant drunks? One aunt chose to help her daughter pay to ship the grandkids across the river into St. Joseph rather than have them go to school in Benton Harbor because Benton Harbor had too many minorities (totally not the word she used to describe Benton Harbor's population). I don't even want to know what their opinions on homosexuality are.

And have I mentioned the drunkenness? And various druginess? And being jackasses?


In short: the only "Crafts" at my wedding will be myself, my parents and my brother. Seriously.
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