Breakdown!

I had a crying breakdown in front of my MIL at the family reunion last weekend. To be fair it was a
a hellish time and I was beyond my wits end. According to MIL, all meals would be provided. I only had to bring a potato salad for the group and my own drinks. (Easy peasy, right?)

So I packed up my SUV full as a stupid clown car and made the two and a half hour drive out of state. DH was not able to attend due to work his schedule. (Even though its his family. Ah, Life as an oilfield wife!) Normally with out DH I would have just skipped the occasion altogether, but last year my FIL was diagnosed with cancer. Its not clear on how long he has live and he was the person actually hosting the reunion (probably for the last time ever). So even though it was a HUGE pain in the ass, I felt obligated (to my husband and to my kids) to go.

The ride up took longer than expected so we were hungry when we arrived at camp. (The last 45 minutes of the drive were in the middle of nowhere or else I would have stopped for some food.) After the kids complained for the 50th time that they were starving, MIL finally served the dinner she brought. Rolls, mayo, mustard, turkey, cheese and pickles. No lettuce, no onions, no salad or potato chips (the salad I brought was for the next night) no desert. Bare bones. Hmm. Okay, whatever I understand you usually want to take it easy the first night, setting up camp and all. We went to bed with growling tummies. Mine especially.

I woke early the next morning, the poppy-seed-sized-human in my belly was very eager for a hot, hearty, mountain breakfast! Mmmm. You know, the kind you have when your in the great outdoors! I waited patiently for everyone else to wake up, fighting off my empty stomach nausea as best as I could. Finally they started putting table cloths on the pic-nick tables. My insides churned with anticipation! My belly was sore and threatened to let loose what little stomach bile it contained if I did not fill it up with something very soon. Finally the moment had arrived! Breakfast is served! Ta -duh!

. . . cold cereal, bagels with two kinds of cream cheese and bananas.

WHAT ... THE ... FUCK ... ??? The growing beast within my tummy roared. Fruit and bagels are NOT a proper breakfast! They are a side dish, they are a snack they are a treat! For the love of FOOD that was NOT . . . BREAKFAST!

I gagged down what I could with the dim hope that the food situation could only get better from there.

Lunch rolled around. Cold turkey sandwiches AGAIN. (At least this time they had tomatoes and lettuce.) Zero for three.

Dinner time and halleluiah! Praise Allah or Jebus or whomever you want, they were serving juicy, hot, grilled HAMBURGERS! MIL had asked to store some burger meat in my fridge. When they started the grill I asked three different times if I should go get the meat from my fridge. Each time I was told no, not yet.

Anxious relatives lined up for the burgers that were done. "Get in there NOW!" my poppy seed screamed to me. Of course at this point I'm doing the mom juggling act of carrying two plates, two forks, two napkins, two drinks, keep track of my two year old and fill up the plates as I went along. Struggle, struggle, struggle. A few rude family members actually passed by and butted directly in line in front of me because I was "too slow" they chuckled. Fix in's for the burgers were slim again (I'm all about the "fix-ins" if you can't tell!) mayo & ketchup (no mustard) pickles and buns (no cheese, onions, lettuce or tomato).  My homemade potato salad was the only descent dish. Ooooh my BIL had the tenacity to open a few boxes of instant mac n cheese for his contribution of a side, other BIL did a "Suddenly Salad" from a box and SIL was in charge of desert and forgot completely. (How in the HELL do you just FORGET desert for SIXTY PEOPLE?)

FINALLY! I made it through the line with my two plates. Turned to gather my baby and head for the tables when from behind MIL asked "Can you go get that burger meat from your fridge now?"
 I saw stars I was so flipping angry. My face must have said it all as I slowly turned towards MIL, hands full, two year old screaming as if she's possessed by a demon due to lack of warm, nutritious meals the past two days. I sighed the hugest, loudest sigh I could muster. SIL quickly volunteered to take my key and fetch the meat. "Yes, you do that woman who has ONE child to care for AND A husband to help you." I said to myself in my head. If I don't eat this right now I'm going to fucking pass out here in the woods.

 So between all of this "food drama" insert that handful of relatives who breeze past you as if you are invisible and those relatives so ignorant everything out of their mouth is an insult. Among sixty some odd people you'd think there would be at least one who wanted to talk to or hang out with me. After getting squeezed out of or straight up ignored by four or five different group conversations, I gave up and resorted to sitting completely alone in camp chair. And I sat and I sat and I sat. For one whole hour I sat watching the groups before me interact. The entire time I sat out the only person who acknowledged me was my youngest nephew-in-law and that was only to drive his Match Box monster truck up my face. (Sweet boy.)

Looking around I realized that absolutely NONE of these people (not even my MIL and FIL) cared that I was there. Here I was, sacrificing my time, money, comfort and energy for my husbands family and not a single, solitary one of them gave a rat's ass! My SIL twice excluded my oldest daughter (her step-niece to be technical, although I must point out we don't like using that word to describe any relationship in our family.  "Step" is a demeaning term IMO.) but made a huge point to include my other two daughters (who are bio to my hubby, so SIL's blood relatives.) which made my oldest daughter cry. I was so done.

My kids and I went to bed early. Rose at 6AM and began feverishly packing my SUV before anyone else in the camp even woke up. I was nearly done when MIL crawled out of her tent to use the restroom. I informed her we were leaving before breakfast as we desperately needed a hot meal.  (Guess what was on the breakfast menu?!? Fruit and bagels! Oh my!) She understood and offered her assistance in packing. I did need help breaking down my youngest daughter's pack n play. MIL snap down the sides so I could do the rest. At least I tried to do the rest. For some damn reason the thing wouldn't fold up properly at the top and it was hanging half open. My vehicle was full on the ride up and now we had an extra body (middle daughter had to meet up with us at the reunion) so there was absolutely no way the pack n play was going to fit in my SUV half open.

I. Fucking. Lost. It.

The tears came like Niagara Falls and I started wailing. Fucking WAILING like a dying, wild animal! There have only been a couple of times in my life I've been so upset I've actually resorted to wailing.

"I just want to go home!!!" I sobbed.

"I just want to eat some real food!!!" I snorted.

Pretty sure the entire camp heard me, but my emotions were a run away freight train.  MIL came to see what was wrong. When she saw my pathetic state she stopped dead in her tracks and pulled me in. As she hugged me emotions came flooding again, even worse this time, sobbing & snorting uncontrollably into her shoulder. Then came the damn hiccups. The deep kind where you can't speak straight and your whole body trembles like a earthquake at each one. When she finally let me go, MIL grabbed the still half open pack n play and said "I've got room for this so don't even stress about it."

I have never in my life been so grateful nor felt such relief.

Gotta love hormones! 

So when we finally tell her I'm pregnant I predict her exact words will be "I knew it."