birthdays and holidays...

My husband's mother usually wakes us up at 7:13 a.m. on his birthday, as he happened to pop out into the world at that moment 32 years ago this past Wednesday. But this year, for some reason, she let us sleep. She didn't call until nearly dinner time. He was hoping that maybe she had forgotten so that he could tease her (and hold it against her) for the rest of her life, but no such luck. They have an odd relationship. His parents divorced when he was three after she cheated on his dad, and he didn't know the truth until he was 18, after he lived about 4 of his middle to high school years with her in her new home in Illinois so she didn't have to move alone. He felt betrayed. He claims to be over it now, but I know from our first year of dating when he was 25 that he had trust issues with women even then. I think our strong relationship has pushed him past most of it, but there still is and always will be an undercurrent of tension between the two of them. They don't speak about it, they love each other, and they're pleasant with each other, but she will never be the type of mother that he calls for no reason or hugs for longer than 3 seconds.

Family dynamics vary so greatly from household to household. Everyone has a different story; even people who grew up in the same house with the same family can have different versions of what happened, didn't happen, and why. My brothers and I are a good example of this, as I've laid out before (mostly here last January, but also here in April and here in May about my older brother specifically). Raised by the same parents, only six years between the oldest and the youngest, it amazes me how disparate we are from each other and how our stories vary as well.

My husband's family, or families I should say, are completely different from each other and completely different from mine. Thanksgiving is spent with his immediate family-- dad, step-mom, sister and brother-in-law, and little brother-- but also his step-mom's family including her sister, her sister's adult children, their kids and various girlfriends and/or friends. I remarked to my husband how sad I thought it was that this would be my fifth Thanksgiving at that house and I only half-way knew some of their names. He replied that he didn't know them either. They sit at one end of the table, us at the other. We see his sister so rarely that we tend to talk just to her, their little brother, and their parents. And his step-mother's family is... well... we'll put it this way: this year we were greeted with one of his step-mom's nephews, his new (pregnant by him) girlfriend, and her two-year-old daughter (by someone else), all of whom are now living with his grandmother (my husband's step-mom's sister).

This never would have happened in my house. Not that this is uncommon for the South, or for America in general, to have barely legal kids getting each other pregnant. But in my house, holidays were formal. You didn't bring extraneous guests, like the two high-school boys who brought their girlfriends unannounced, both of whom sat tight-lipped, talking only to their beaus, picking at their turkey like if they ate it they would A) blow up like a 300-pound balloon or B) show some kind of interest in something other than rubbing up against the boy when the parents weren't looking. You definitely didn't show up in camo straight from the deer camp, and you definitely didn't announce to the table that your girlfriend was pregnant. And to get the reaction that he got-- "congratulations" to a 20-year-old who's not married and living with his mom?

We ate quickly, thanked his step-mom profusely, grabbed his sister, brother-in-law, and brother, and left for our house. His brother brought Rock Band over and we played for hours, drinking beer and blowing off steam.

It was nice to have two days off in a row like that with my husband. His birthday, Wednesday, was all his. I told him we'd do whatever he wanted, whether that was drive to Memphis and go shopping or to Beale Street all day, or sit on the couch and nap. He picked something in the middle-- we started with donuts for breakfast, then walked around our town square, window shopping and greeting friends who work nearby. We then ate at an awesome plate-lunch place on the square. Afterwards we came home so he could nap off his macaroni and cheese and zucchinin onion stew. For dinner we went to a fine dining place so he could get a steak, then we met his brother at our favorite bar and laughed and tasted odd beers all night. I had some fun playing with my camera taking pictures of the bar. He seemed very happy with the day, done his way, and with the couple shirts and argyle socks I got him as well.

Having all these days off has really messed up my schedule. I hardly know if it's Thursday or Sunday. Going back to work on Monday is going to be hard.