My family is that type who has dinner together EVERY Sunday. Therefore, we are incredibly close. Because we see each other often and love each other unconditionally like all families do (yeah right, I know we are an anomaly), many Sunday dinners go in the record books.
Tonight my grandma brought over a dress she couldn’t get clean, but wants to wear to a wedding we have this fall. There was ridiculously stupid conversation about the stain and what it could be and why it wasn’t coming out… but that is neither here nor there. The important part of this dress is that she wore it to my cousin’s wedding three Septembers ago. My cousin who she is not related to (on my dad’s side of the family), so I’m not really sure why she was invited. I’m even shocked I was invited because my dad's family shows me THAT much love.
So: dress... Sara’s wedding… flashback.
This discussion about the stain on the dress that has been there for three years (weird) reminded us all of the sh-tshow that was Sara’s wedding. The sh-tshow had nothing to do with the bride or my dad’s side of the family at all, which is shocking. This wedding brings up the time of my life we all can joke about now, but why no one sent me to a psychologist or rehab makes me wonder how much my family really cares about me.
My family picked me up to go to the wedding to keep me from drinking and driving. My family picked me up from a football tailgate that I had been at all afternoon. My family picked me up from a football tailgate that I had changed from my tailgating dress into a wedding guest dress in a port-a-potty. My family picked me up by the railroad tracks downtown after I said goodbye to my friends and my EX who was visiting for the weekend, hence why I thought I should go to a tailgate before a wedding… I’m not sporty spice, people. I am not a die-hard football fan. I attend sporting events for the flipcup and chips and dip before the game. I clearly attended the game to make him realize how fabulously cool I am, and how much better his life would be with me back in it. (Even though I was the one who did the breaking...)
The wedding fiasco came up after dinner, opening up the gates for everyone to take their jabs at me and my life at that time. Which again made me question why they did nothing to help me and instead sat back listening to my monthly credit card readings which consisted of: "bar, bar, restaurant, ice cream shop, bar, bar."
All joking aside, it is moments like these, when I acknowledge that life doesn't usually go the way we plan, and that's okay. These moments make me thankful that I wasn't sent to rehab or a psychologist, that my friends and family didn't stop talking to me completely and instead stuck around to watch the entertaining show that ended up turning out beautifully thanks to the people with whom I spend my Sundays.
<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/10253911/?claim=wpc8xwn9z8p">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>