Monday, September 17, 2012

Everybody's A Redneck After A Six-Pack

I have in-law issues. Never suspected I would, but I do. I’m a nice person. Not too judgmental. Well…unless someone is showing their stupid side. I hate stupid.

So my middle child is WITH child and about to marry what I thought was a very nice man. And he is in some ways. He’s a good provider, and for the most part, good to her. However, he’s very controlling and is a major know-it-all.

Their courtship was “whirlwind”. Two months into the relationship and she was pregnant. Okay, I didn’t say a word. Not a word. From the time they met up until about three months ago, he would get mad with her while shopping and storm out of the store and leave her. Yes, leave her stranded. She’d call me and I’d drive to wherever she was and bring her home with me. We’d wait until he got over his pissiness and he’d come and get her. This happened a total of five times, and I never said a word.

Until number six.

That last time was IT as far as I was concerned. He pulled up on the side of the road in front of my house and waited for her to come out. But that time, I went out with her. You see, I never wanted to stick my nose in their business, but I finally decided that if I was going to be forced to deal with his shit, then I had a right. So I walked around to the driver’s side and laid it on the line for him.

“You will not leave my pregnant daughter stranded again. Do I make myself clear?”

He said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

And that was that. Things have gone smoothly between them since. But then he needed an outlet for his anger I guess. Because after that they’d come to visit and he seemed to have developed the most condescending attitude. And worse.

Not only does my soon-to-be son-in-law think that Southerners are all rednecks and don’t have sense enough to get in out of the rain, but he’s a damn bigot, too! What has my child gotten herself into?

On two separate occasions before this last one on Saturday, I had to break up arguments between him, my boy, and my oldest daughter. According to him, both of them are on their way to Bubba University because A) they are from the South and are too stupid to live, and B) they support a political platform he doesn’t (namely any program designed to help the poor).

In other words, my kids and I are REDNECKS.

He’s from New York, a perfectly lovely state I’m sure. I’ve only been to NYC and only a couple of times for short visits at that. So I can’t really say I’d like or dislike living there. He’s been in the South for two years now and says he is making money hands over fists because Southerners are just plain dumb. But he hates the South and mocks everything about it.

I swear to you… I have held my tongue to the point of biting it. I’ve done this because for some odd damn reason my baby girl loves this freaking idiot. And she’s pregnant with his baby. Which means stuck.

So Saturday when I was informed they were coming for a visit (they live about thirty-five minutes away), my stomach knotted. I stayed mad all damn day. I kept remembering some of the things he’d said on previous visits and my blood simply boiled. At the same time, I tried not to be angry for the sake of my girl. What’s a MOM to do?

Five o’clock rolled around. They were due at six. I drove three blocks to the local convenient store and bought a six-pack of Bud Light Platinum. You know the ones—in the pretty blue bottles.  I came into the house, my treasure in hand, and got this from my brother:

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m only going to have a couple. For my nerves. I’m tied up in knots.”

“You should just let me—“

“I know, I know. Bitch slap him a few times and bring him into line.”

I sat down with a beer as my oldest came downstairs.

Her eyes widened. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m only having a couple to take the edge off before they get here. I’m afraid if I don’t I might snap at him.”

She nodded slowly, and then looked at my bro. “This is gonna be good.”

He agreed. I left them in the living room and got on the computer for a while. Once I had finished the second beer, they arrived. But that was okay. Two beers on an empty stomach can really put you in a mellow mood. Sure can. So I was all smiles when they walked in. Hugs and kisses all around. I swear to you…I was good to go.

And then he started talking about the Hispanic guys that work for him.

I popped the top on another beer. And noooooooooo…did not offer him one. My oldest ran upstairs to get her brother. Later I was told that she informed him the show was starting and he was going to miss it.

By BEER FOUR, we were fully engaged. By BEER SIX I was threatening to punch him in the damn nose. They left with his threats of:

1) You are not allowed in the delivery room when the baby comes
2) You will never see my son
3) Don’t call my house or think you can come by when I’m at work
4) You’re no longer a part of our lives

Okay. I messed up. But after a six-pack, EVERYBODY IS A REDNECK!

Am I worried about his threats? Hell no. He’s a WUSS. Wild horses and ten SEAL TEAMS couldn’t keep me away from my baby girl and her baby. He just doesn’t realize that when he tapped into my REDNECK roots, that he tapped into the QUEEN!

I still think I should have punched him. My brother still says I should have let him do it.

The boy and my oldest daughter? They filmed it all with their phones. I have threatened to cut them out of my will if any of it ends up on You Tube.

‘Nuff said.