the parentals

Several of you know that Brian and I had the great meeting of the parents this past weekend, but I haven't had a chance to tell anyone about it...so...to the blog!

We've met each other's respective parents a few times but realized there would be no reason for us all to be in the same place before the wedding, and we really didn't want that to be the first time they'd all met, so we orchestrated a little meet-and-greet in ATX this past weekend. Brian's parents drove in from Florida and stayed for about 5 days and my mom popped down from Fort Worth for part of the weekend. Everyone played nicely, as expected, and the ladies seemed to get along quite well! 

The three main topics of the weekend were:

1) Guns

2) Food

3) Family relationships that need some explaining

Anticipating this dialogue exactly, Brian and I had a hard time figuring out what kind of activities we should plan. Unlike us, they are usually an "indoor only" kind of crew, but we were trying to avoid watching movies or other things that don't encourage conversation. We 86-ed playing poker (which we'd been doing with his parents already) because Brian pointed out that going for blood might not be the best way to get everyone to buddy-up. Doing a puzzle was out because these aren't our grandparents. Having a drink on the porch doesn't fly when none of the parentals drink. So, we went to the only place that we knew they'd all be happy:

Please note that Monday is Ladies Day. 

All the adults have their carrying licenses, so we brought 6 guns for 5 people (I hear you can never be too safe) and everyone seemed pretty excited about teaching me how to shoot, as I was the only one who had never fired a weapon. Well that's not true, there was that corn I killed, but otherwise, no real weapons. 

So apparently there's this weird thing that cops' kids do. They live around guns their whole life and then grow up and watch Bowling for Columbine and decide that guns are what's wrong with America and the next thing you know, they're crying in a firing range. That's right. Crying. In the firing range. Honestly, I almost wish I'd just peed in my pants or something. Because there's less dignity but more spine involved in that. 

So here's what happened. I wanted to watch my mom shoot first so I'd know what to expect, and then I nearly died when she fired the gun. I'd never really processed the whole "ammo works because there's an explosion involved" dealio, so the bright flash and the sound (along with twenty other people firing in their lines) just about made me stop breathing. I was like a Mexican jumping bean in there, ricocheting off of everyone else's shots. Each one literally terrified me.

Somehow I'd managed to forget that I hate balloons simply because sometimes they pop and when they do I nearly have a heart attack, and also that I hate it when Brian hides to scare me because the anticipation kills me even if I know where he is, and oh yeah I hate Operation with a bloody fire because I scream every time my tiny scalpel makes the thing buzz. So trade out a 9 mm for a tiny scalpel and an explosion in a concrete bunker for a buzz and Oh Look, It's My Living Nightmare!

At first I tried to pull it together and just breathe and try to drown out the other shots but inevitably they just got louder and louder and I became more and more jumpy and the next thing you know, here come a few tears! (Only a few, for the record). I knew how badly Brian and especially my mom wanted me to learn to shoot. But as soon as the outward motivation changed from "It'll be fun!" to "Someday you may need to protect yourself if you're walking down a dark alley," I think the reality and definitiveness of GUNS KILL PEOPLE seeped back in and, knowing that's not something I ever want to do, I just got totally creeped out by the fact that any of these people could turn around and shoot me or accidentally misfire and shoot themselves (dents in the counters helped me with this theory) and then, more tears. Mucho embarrassment-o.

The good thing is, everyone else really enjoyed themselves. And Brian was a great shot, so I think we're covered in the defense department. It was a totally bizarre activity to choose for our parents but hey, some people bond over alcohol, some bond over deadly weapons. To each his own!

Mom, Brian, random dude, Brian's dad, Brian's mom. 

One big happy gun-wielding family!