Just got home from Christmas at my parents’ house. Our entire family was there, which hardly ever happens – my parents, both brothers, one sister-in-law and one sister-in-law-to-be, me, the Lumberjack (fiance and babydaddy), and the Lumberjack’s 2 brothers. Total full house. Did I mention that we’re not telling anyone I’m pregnant yet?
My older brother and I don’t necessary have that much in common, but we both love beer. A few years ago when I started dating the Lumberjack, the first non-queer cis-gendered man I’d dated in, oh, a decade, he was PSYCHED. Finally, I had a boyfriend he wanted to talk to. And finally we had something to do together – drink beer. And drink lots of it.
So, imagine his probable frustration when I show up and don’t want to drink anything. And he kept pouring rounds of champagne, mimosas, beers, etc. I tried to sip a bit and then abandon my glass somewhere, but he clearly was getting annoyed, and confused. Isn’t beer the way we bond? It was awkward.
My mom & I got in a weird pseudo-fight – the usual miscommunications, etc. But I found myself feeling a lot more patient with her, and much more emotionally invested in the conversation. I used to just blow her off and/or get annoyed, but suddenly I realised HOLY SHIT IN EIGHT MONTHS I’M GOING TO BE A MOM. And suddenly I realised how many ways I could totally fuck shit up. And you know, my mom really does try.
I hope my sips of beer didn’t give little Shotgun Fetus gills.