The children are fed first. Do not think of getting in line until the last offspring under 10 has left their soggy, half-eaten plate on the counter above the trash can. You will not receive The Look this year, you won’t. The children. Are fed. First.
There is no alcohol. Do not go into the garage to the blue cooler where you will not find a selection of PBR, Coors, and Keystone from nobody knows who. Do not offer to refill anyone else’s red Solo cup while you’re not out there.
You know this, but it bears repeating. Do not ask anyone if they are pregnant. They either are, they just were, they were five years ago, or they’ve never been. Everyone but you has figured out who is which.
Note that the above tip does not apply to you personally. Your reproductive choices are nothing more than conversation fodder. Strive to be polite. Your stretch goal is to redirect with humor.
One of many fresh-faced nieces informs you she has recently started a Tumblr. Tell her you’ve never heard of Tumblr, as your mind’s eye drifts to your dash full of of yaoi fanfic.
Your aunt reintroduces you to her new husband. Recall that the wedding delineated gender roles down very neat lines. When he asks what you do, tell him that you mostly write about gay weddings.
The bathroom door is open but occupied with a being under the age of six accompanied by an adult. Smile politely but remain at the door. The line starts after you. Keep the smile when the adult insists that proper handwashing lasts as long as the ABCs. The smile is important.
A preschooler asks if your hair will ever grow back since you shaved it. Take the opportunity to point out that Mommy’s leg hair grows back after she shaves too. Explain what leg shaving is and that Mommy’s legs grow hair just like Daddy’s. Acknowledge that the world is a strange place.
Snap at the 35-year-old who teases his teenage sister about being fat while in line for food. You don’t recall her name. Feel bad about this and promise you’ll make a point to remember this year. You never will.
The good conversation and the good beer are near the circle of white-haired, high-waisted men that haven’t moved since the party started.
Do not bring the cigarettes this time. Seriously, what were you thinking last year? You’d have to walk a mile away to avoid comment this time. Although walking is good for the heart.
Find time to sit with the patriarch. He doesn’t get in the thick of things the way he used to, so sit and people watch with him. Nod when he tells you that asparagus is a cancer preventative. Again.
Don’t play Cards Against Humanity ever again. Never, do you hear me? Your opinion of that one uncle has never recovered, and it’s been three years. Also, no one thinks you have a sense of humor.
Don’t open your mouth about kids, not on any subject, period. No one cares. Honestly, they don’t even ask if you want to hold the new ones anymore.
Play at least one game of washers with Grandma. Yes, you suck at this game in kind of a brutal way. Yes, she will kick your ass, and yes, everyone will laugh at you for not getting even one washer on the board. Play the damn game. Drown your competitive sorrows in peanut butter cookies later.
Smile at the college kid whose head you tore off when he turned out to be a sexist drunk last time. He was really embarrassed when he sobered up, and you’ve said stupid shit too. Decline the Fireball shot.
Hold hands in the prayer circle before the meal and stay quiet. Close your eyes or don’t close your eyes, depending on where you’re at that day. Don’t make eye contact with any kids. They’ll laugh, and then you’ll laugh, and then it’s all over but the hellfire.
An 8-year-old asks why your last name is different from everyone else’s. Offer your reasons simply and without overt bias. Do not clap with glee when she asks if boys ever change their last names when they get married. Don’t unleash your agenda too soon.
When a 5-year-old tells you that your blue dress is for boys, a nearby 10-year-old might, for example, scoff that boys don’t wear dresses. Alternate between feeling angry and relieved that you were a coward and therefore not the one to shatter their world.
If the reunion spans a couple days, bring along a book sure to inspire conversation. Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods is excellent for discussing the satirical properties of world religions while Milton’s Paradise Lost is a handy catalyst for analyzing Satan as a relatable entity.
Introverts should be encouraged that they will have plenty of alone time while everyone else plays those card games you somehow never picked up. Really, how is that the whole world knows how to play Euchre, Pitch, and Texas Hold Em except for you?
The bonfire will either be an important part of the event or nonexistent depending on how many tiny plastic buckets and scoops are in the sandpit this year. Bury your disappointment in sand castles when there are more than a dozen.
A number of dSLRs will be laying around, containing photos of toddlers, cake, and Grandpa. See to it that a few of the cameras get a bit of diversity with bathroom closeups of the Pap Smears for Everyone rainbow T-shirt you’re wearing under your cardigan.
Someone asks if the flask with the owl motif buried in the freezer is yours. Own up. You’re an adult after all. Everyone knows it’s you anyway.
Headphones are tricky. If the reunion is only for an afternoon, you’ll look like an asshole. If the reunion is for a weekend, you can probably get $20 for a pair of shitty earbuds by Sunday.
Every few years, one of the Baby Boomers leads a midnight round of karaoke around the bonfire. Brush up on your Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, and Kenny Rogers just in case. “House of the Rising Sun” is your trump card.
You can drive into town for Starbucks if you have to. Know that someone will find out, and you will be expected to pick up a gallon of milk, a bag of frozen chicken strips, and a box of diapers while you’re out.
If it’s Christmas or Easter, don’t try to join in the call-and-response stuff at mass. Everyone knows you can’t do it right. Smile and sing the hymns you know. Extra points if you can sing harmony.
Do not try to keep track of significant others until they’ve met either of two requirements: 1) they’ve shown up for three years running, or 2) they’ve actually married into the family. Engagements do not count.
If you do vaguely remember that a cousin has brought someone special the last couple years, tread cautiously. Be welcoming but don’t mention previous reunions. Wait for someone else to call them by name. You don’t want to look like you don’t remember them, but you don’t want to confuse them with an ex either. That is a very special type of embarrassment.
Learn how to cook a couple dishes really, really damn well. An excellent pulled pork absolves many sins.
THIS IS DEAD ON ACCURATE. Especially the card games. My god, the card games. Of all the many faults my in-laws find with me, I think my lack of interest in/outright loathing of card and board games ranks pretty close to the top of the list.
At least they’re not charade or guessing games. My husband’s family insists that everyone should play a game together which is no small feat when you have fifteen or so people showing up. Someone finally knocked the Guess-tures timer-box-thingamajig off the table a year ago and I have never been happier to see something fall to the floor and smash into bits.
Bless. I am not alone!!!!
My people play horseshoes. There’s pits, a mark for where the ladies stand, and a set of small fences to prevent another broken ankle incident. No one of my generation plays, sadly.
I have often asked myself how it is that the whole world can play euchre except me.
I will also never forget the visit my mother-in-law made after my second child was born and she, my husband, and my then 2-year-old sat riveted in front of steam powered engines for the better part of an hour. I lay on the couch listening to rapturous cries of “just look at that flywheel,” and wondered in a vague hormonal-charged way what was wrong with me.
We played Apples to Apples with Mr. BHam’s aunts in 2011 and one of them still thinks there is something seriously wrong with my sense of humor and gives me a wide berth.
The greatest pain I know is the pain of agonizing whether to play the political Apples to Apples cards on the green cards that I feel suit them, or to play them on the green cards that I know will make my conservative family members pick them. Stand by my principles, or win the game?? AGONY
The one tipsy evening that I played not only Apples to Apples but also Never Have I Ever with a couple of my cousins and their friends will never, ever be repeated.
Bonus: the Apples to Apples deck was like an AtA/CAH hybrid because one cousin and his friends liked to play the game drunk and add dirty adjectives to the cards in Sharpie when they got bored.
This list would work for weddings too.
Yes, I have a family wedding this summer and will be squirrelling this post away to reread then.
I would have saved a not insubstantial amount of money sharing a hotel room at the family wedding I’m going to in two weeks, but it will be WORTH IT to have a place to watch crap TV all by myself.
And this is why I no longer go to family reunions.
Ugh, all of this. Our reunion is in a few weeks and today my mom asked me to be in charge of making the photo slideshow. *breathes deeply*
Okay, but so my husband’s family Doesn’t Drink, and even non-reunion events have at least 20 people at them, and that means I have to face all his million cousins sober and it is terrible.
My family is your husband’s family. I am so, so sorry.
I’m suddenly very very glad that my husband’s family does drink. It does make family reunions easier. I shall send an extra helping of my patience and strategic deafness your way. You need it more than I do.
My immediate family does not drink, but my sister-in-laws’ does. Family gatherings are much more fun these days.
Do not under any circumstances refer to your son’s girlfriend as his fiancée, as this will result in her crying hysterically in the parking lot while your son has to explain that he did not really mean it when he said “you know, marriage is just like another box to check. I don’t get the point of it.”
You know, my fiancé’s mother went around introducing me to people at his cousin’s wedding as his fiancée, which I was not at the time. It was awkward but only because, um, jumping the gun a bit? (We’d actually been talking about marriage and did get engaged about two months later, on our 3rd anniversary, so that was not the awkward part, but what if we had decided marriage wasn’t for us or something?). She had been quite hands-off and you-do-you about our relationship until then – I think she was beginning to feel like she was in some sort of competition with her sister, whose older daughter had already gotten married and had two children, the youngest of which was only about a month old at the time. My future-MIL kept picking up the baby and looking at us pointedly. It was like she had gone from zero to JewishMothertron3000 in 30 seconds.
This list is universally accurate, right down to the white-haired, high-waisted, senior males doing nada while shit goes down all around them.
The partner’s family reunion two years ago went pretty well: crazy drunk antics were kept to a minimum and everyone agreed that the gluten-free spaghetti tasted absolutely effing terrible.
YES.
Last year at my bf’s family reunion I learned that it’s better to just not offer to help with cooking, as the established power dynamics of the Aunts and Cousins in the kitchen are much to difficult for me to understand. Also I don’t like helping with something and then getting yelled at for doing it incorrectly. *You* try dicing the tomatoes into 1/8″ pieces with a dull knife, then.
helping with cooking is totally my instinctual thing to do, too! But in a place where you don’t know which is the Right Knife…[shudder]
Right?? What’s with families not sharpening their knives?!?
I sneakily sharpen knives on the un-glazed ceramic-edged bottom of coffee cups when people aren’t looking.
To be fair, we were at a rental cabin, so maybe not their fault.
My stepdad insists his knives (purchased for a boatload of money in the mid-90s) are the best but they are dull as hell. He doesn’t believe in sharp knives because it’s easier to cut yourself! They’re dangerous! (As you might imagine, my stepdad does zero cooking.)
That is the most terrifying thing.
He doesn’t believe in sharp knives.
He doesn’t believe in sharp knives.
He. Doesn’t. Believe. In sharp knives.
The shit men take pride in, I swear.
Especially since accidental cuts from dull knives hurt a hell of a lot more. Something about them not leaving a clean edge, or whatevers.
Also it’s easier to cut yourself because the blade is more likely to slip if it’s too dull to cut the thing you’re *trying* to cut.
My in-laws’ knives are always dull.* When I am asked to chop things at their house, I borrow my husband’s Spyderco pocket knife or else I would lose my damn mind.
*My mother-in-law tosses salads with her hands, holding a paring knife in the right. I’ve had to stop her from doing this at our house, because she would have to be taken to the emergency room.
In-laws! My in-laws only have a glass (!!????) cutting board, and frequently ask me to cook. The sound of a dull knife on glass makes my skin crawl.
YES – MY IN-LAWS HAVE A GLASS “CUTTING BOARD” ALSO.
How is this even a thing? Glass cutting board indeed. AND DON’T PUT THAT KNIFE IN THE DISHWASHER.
My mom has very firmly reached the “Eh, fuck it, I do what I want,” stage in her life, so she buys decent, cheap Victorianox chef’s knives, washes them in the dishwasher, and throws them away when they lose their edge. It’s maddening, because this is the woman who bought me my first nice knife after college and who scolded me for years as a child if I put a chef’s knife in the dishwasher.
I don’t know! I don’t think my in-laws ever actually cook, so maybe they don’t know how horrifying it is? I really don’t understand it at all.
I have one in part because I once lived in an apartment with a countertop that was neither heat-resistant nor scratchproof and this did double duty as cutting board and trivet. Also I cooked a lot of chicken and glass cutting boards are easier to scrubscrubscrub clean. (And bleachie, when sometimes needed, doesn’t hurt them.)
The knife-on-glass sound really is hair-raising, though.
That’s why I always offer to do dishes/clear plates instead. I hate being told my helpfulness is not actually helpful in a subjective way. Now, if I’m doing something wrong and it’s going to have a detrimental effect on the outcome of your delicious foodstuffs, by all means, correct me! But power plays are not something I’m going to wade into.
Oh no. In my family there is very very much a Wrong Way to do dishes. When my mother comes to visit rather than adapt to my set up she will physically move my soap/dish rack/ towels around because I don’t wash dishes the Right Way.
D: nooooooo
You can see why I don’t take dude friends home to meet my family. You’re welcome exes.
My mom moves things to different cupboards, saying “THIS should go HERE.” My husband is like “wait, you don’t live here.” This makes me laugh so hard.
Yes. Also, if you aren’t part of the normal circle, it doesn’t matter where you are in the kitchen. You are in the place someone else needs to be.
My family is very small and our nuclear core is isolated from the rest of the extended family because nobody much liked my grandfather. As a result, I’ve never been to a family reunion.
But I am about to marry into a very large, boisterous Jewish family with ties and feuds going back literally centuries. I will print off this article, but will have to adapt it because pulled pork won’t work. Damn their cloven hooves and non-cud-chewing.
Brisket is the answer.
Kugel
I have a large Jewish family, my husband has a large Jewish family, and both sides have generations-old disputes. In fact, my mother recently tried to create one focused on the name of my not-yet-born child by creating a fait accompli of telling my grandmother it would be named after her (we don’t know what sex it is, and we wouldn’t name it after her anyway). I told her to stop and apologize immediately, but who knows if that message went through? Next family reunion is scheduled for about a month after the baby is due, so we’ll find out then.
Replace “pulled pork” with “brisket” and the effects are about the same. Though, ask about people’s levels of kosher-keeping before making anything with either meat or dairy — if anyone keeps kosher, the safer bet might be to make some kind of non-dairy dessert (you can sub out butter with margarine/olive oil and milk with some non-dairy substitute, it really does taste similar), and it will be very appreciated.
Any and all desserts.
The all-important card games. Yes. That’s my family. Moreso when my grandfather was alive, but now in his memory. All our in-laws have been through that particular wringer in some way, shape, or form. It’s fun to witness the quiet but very real mass exodus that occurs when the deck comes out. Whist, 500, and cribbage, especially, but also gin. My parents were somewhat surprised and annoyed when I married someone who could beat them at cribbage. That skill got him enough points to save him from learning the others.
My mother is a small-time newspaper columnist who once wrote a column questioning where she went wrong because my little brother never learned basic card etiquette. (Tongue in cheek, but still.) I’d like to say I admire him for not bowing to family pressures. But, honestly, I do kind of judge my parents for falling down there. I don’t care that cards is not to his taste. He didn’t have to learn the specific games, but he should have learned the form! As a matter of family honor. You deal clockwise, dealer gets the last card, if you aren’t the dealer, don’t pick up your cards until they’ve all been dealt (exceptions made for children, those new to the game, and/or those with relevant disabilities), and if no one else moans and groans when looking at their hand, the task falls to you. Bonus points if you, the dealer, bitch about whoever dealt this mess. It’s not hard. He could’ve learned before going to college.
nb4r, redeal!
(small voice)
Does anybody else actually like card games? I play some killer Euchre, let me tell you.
…Man, I would go through the whole wringer of cousins’ numerous shrieking and sticky offspring, probing questions about why I didn’t change my name when I married that guy I was shacking up with and when we’re going to have babies and how many, and the faintly disapproving “huh, you still have that nose ring” looks, and the overwhelming conservative piety, if it meant a family reunion where I could play Euchre with my grandma again.
oh, I love the card games! I love getting to know new-to-me family’s house rules and traditions. And I may be inadequate at cooking, entertaining the kids, or working in the garden, but damn it I can hold my own in Hearts.
Pinochle is how I survive my family reunions. Get a game going and I don’t have to make actual conversation with anyone for 2 hours. It’s great.
I play Spades SO HARD, but I am not very good.
Me, so much. Only, for me it’s my grandpa and whist or 500. And my grandmother, too, really. I used to love to sit and watch when my parents played with them. My grandpa and mom vs. my grandma and my dad. My grandpa and mother were the flashy players, but my father was sensitive to my grandmother’s quiet signals, and they ended up winning, more often than not. When I got old enough to play, I was fiercely competitive, to my grandpa’s delight. Right after his own heart. And cribbage. My mom and he had always bet a quarter when she was little, 50 cents if someone got skunked. I loved playing with my grandpa so much. He would “cheat” when you were young, but would always make sure you caught him, which was an excellent way to teach the rules of the game. My mom has a picture she loves of me playing with my dad just like she used to do with hers.
So many family sayings. “Deucers, deucers, never losers.” “Bid ’em high, sleep in the streets!” “You’re the type.” (Said with a look of disgust at whoever just won the hand.) “Slice ’em and weep!” (my aunt once said that when offering the cards to be cut, to which my mother replied, “No, dear, that’s onions.” But it made it into the lexicon.) We lived far away from my extended family, and I was much older than my baby brother. So, most of the year, we couldn’t play the games that needed four people. Those family trips were just wonderful to me, in large part, for the card playing that ensued. After a game was over, my grandfather would go back through it, like describing the play by play after a sports game. And during the game, so many memories of other games that had been played and won and lost! Which amazes me now, because I don’t think I know that many people who will remember how they won or lost a card game years later. But my grandpa loved stories and he loved cards and so they naturally went together.
Gah. I really miss my grandparents, now. Going to have a small cry at my desk and then get back to work.
Yes I love card games even though I never remember the rules at first. My favorite time playing cards was the year before Katrina (i believe we had evacuated due to hurricane Ivan) when I stayed at a hotel with a couple of my college friends, and one of those friends extended native NOLA family. The great aunties, spritely sisters in their 80s, taught us street card games from their youth growing up in NOLA and throughout the course of the night in that hotel in Lafayette, cleaned the 3 of us poor college kids out of all our quarters, followed by all our nickels, then all of our pennies. I have never had a better time losing about $20 in loose change because those ladies so charming and so ruthless. My goal to this day is to be like those badass great aunties.
Let’s hear it for tough old ladies. Once when we were playing Spoons, I dove for one of the spoons that had fallen under the table. A moment later, oof–Grandma dove right after me, landed on top of me, and we scrabbled around on the floor for a while until she wrestled the spoon from my hand.
She loved her grandkids, but man, she was ruthless.
I love card games. In general but especially when meeting/dealing with significant others’ families. They let you hang out with and get to know a manageable group of relatives while having an activity and removing the need for small talk.
THIS! Crib is my go to card game for my “hard to handle” SIL. Small talk is made (but in manageable doses) and playing cards keeps my anxiety levels in check, allowing me to focus on getting to know other groups of relatives.
Card games for the win (and socially anxious!)!!!
Card games are the best way for my family (on both sides) to interact. We play Hearts in one big group with two decks, or else smaller groups of Pinochle, Euchre, Rummy, etc. Even Uno works, though that can get vicious. I like board games a lot as well but I’ve found cards works best.
I love card games and I love playing cards with my extended family, although it’s not as much fun as it was when my grandmother was alive. But there’s nothing better than 3 generational pinocle, complete with inter-generational squabbling.
And I hear you about putting up with a lot to be able to play Euchre (or Rummy or Pinochle) with my gram again. Towards the end of her life, as she got less lucid, her card playing skills diminished, but I always thought it was a testament to her skills that even with dementia, even confused about what game we were playing, she still managed to win.
Bring and play Pit. That way you can take out any aggressive feelings towards these people by screaming at them to trade you for two fucking oranges!
OH MY LAWD, PIT.
This was the one family get-together game that the cousins (including our family) were not allowed to play whilst the younger generation was asleep at naptime, because it was effing chaos. And we LOVED IT.
but, then you get holes in your hand from the bell!
Our family actually had a bloody nose incident over pit once
We’ve got “Choctaw Bingo” cued up for singalongs on the road trip down to the Texas family next week. If I get roped into a joint session of drunk Cards Against Humanity and let’s discuss your babymaking plans, I will shut my eyes and think of Uncle Slayton.
I can play Euchre! I learned in university, where everyone played it at the student pub.
Naturally, everyone on the side of the family that holds large reunions plays whist.
My mom’s advice for family reunions was always, “Ask people questions! If they ask you a question, turn it back on them!”
My little brother threatened to directly mirror all questions from elderly relatives: “And how old are YOU?” “And what do YOU want from Santa this year?”
Sound advice. However, I would warn against using this on relatives who think that Asking Questions leads to Conversation.
God, I wish there were card games at my family gatherings. I love my family but I cannot maintain conversation with any of them for the hours and hours that my mom, who is usually my ride, likes to. And there’s NEVER ANYTHING ELSE TO DO.
the gallon of milk, bag of chicken fingers, and box of diapers just slew me. #soaccurateithurts
(we were the out of town relatives, would come in every month to Gramee’s house, and as the oldest one of the cousins, I was expected to know my way around the kitchen, be perfectly friendly and willing to play boardgames for hours even wile losing, and never get angry at the *incessant* teasing if, god forbid, I took longer than 5 seconds to find the ketchup/any condiment or ingredient needed in the refrigerator.)
Oldest cousins, unite. I was the eldest and the only other female was my much younger sister. I can’t tell you how much I wanted those LONG afternoons to be over with all my yelling cousins running around as I sat quietly at the grown up table or went and sat by myself in the corner. I would get yelled at for sitting by myself if my Dad saw me though. “We are here to spend time with our family not sit off by yourself!” Ugh.
YAS. gosh. For me it was Grandma’s access to cable. Groups of us were forever sneaking off to watch Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, TV Land, or if we were really lucky, the Sci-fi Channel would be marathoning The Twilight Zone.
Reasoning: you keep telling me family is forever, so I’m going to see these people WHENEVER, but cable is rare and precious. (somehow this never flew with Mom.)
Family reunions with the in-laws:
Find a way to avoid the asshole uncle who manages to personally insult you every time he sees you. Be pleased when you actually pull it off.
Wonder at your sister-in-law’s reluctance to embrace her ethnic heritage. Conclude her husband’s family must be shaming her, because where they come from, ethnic differences are something only brown people do, and white people shouldn’t want to be like Them.
Don’t talk about your religious beliefs. Ever. 90% of the family might be Christian, but you are not the Right Kind™ of Christian. This will render you unable to talk about most topics, since they don’t subscribe to any type of culture that isn’t super Christian, super white, and tame in the extreme. Furthermore, any topic could be a minefield lest you say The Wrong Thing and reveal your unwelcome Otherness once more.
omg yes. I am the Wrong Kind of Christian (Anglican) and inevitably I say something that betrays just how wrong (and destined to burn in hell forever) I am.
ooooohhhhh gooooood I am the ‘wrong kind’ of Christian and I never thought so much drama could come from a family where there are only 6 members total. But here we are, complete with catholic slurs and in-depth discussions of The Troubles.
Suddenly so, so grateful for the Fox family’s alcohol-positive attitude. Alcoholism? Is that the word I’m looking for? Whatever.
Oh God. Cards Against Humanity is fun until you realize that everyone you’re playing with are dyed-in-the-cloth racists and you’re trying to find a graceful way to bow out and GTFO.
I am in the process of memorizing this for use at the end of the month.
When I finally sobered up, I was relieved to find out that family reunions had a sober section. I had no awareness of it before, because, well, you know. Also: “Tell her you’ve never heard of Tumblr, as your mind’s eye drifts to your dash full of of yaoi fanfic.” Heh. (Double awkward points if she’s followed you already.)
Well this is true in every way. Also, you look hot as hell with a shaved head!
Having just suffered through a recent 90th birthday gathering, this is perfect, hoo boy.
I eat appetizers until someone starts and unsavory conversation, I excuse myself and hide in the bathroom on my phone, only to return miraculously when the individual has vacated the food area, heh.
So, I have 11 siblings, their spouses, and 8 niblings in my immediate family. Start adding my mom’s 7 siblings, their spouses, their children and their children’s children and you have epic numbers of people in one place without even bothering to include my dad’s side of the family. Bonus: it’s easy to avoid the relatives you don’t like without being insulting because whoops, you didn’t even see them. It’s not like you could seat everyone around a single table anyway, so hang out with the ones you like, drink all you like, and have a good time. Or sneak off in a corner and read a book by yourself, if you so desire. It’s not like anyone would notice.
(This is much better than when I was the oldest child on both sides of the family and therefore had to hang out bored with a bunch of adults and babies and somehow they’d always notice if I tried to sneak away. Apparently one kid is easy to keep an eye on?)
I have SO many feelings about this list – such a great combination of the specific and the universal.
Hanging out with the matriarch was my go to technique for surviving Thanksgiving with my mother’s side of the family (that and not expressing any, any interest in my aunt’s genealogy research and deflecting her with questions about her grandchildren). My Hail Mary survival technique is campfire songs – much harder to say terrible things to each other when you’re singing all the verses to She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain.
I’m still recovering from the summer I attended 3 family reunions (my mother’s family, my father’s family and my husband’s family) – it was 1.5 too many.
My family reunion this summer is less than one day, only one meal (which I am In Charge Of, which should keep me busy and away from “why are you still single” conversations) but the BIG DEAL is that my dad is bringing his wife (only my brothers have met her) and my mom will be there. (It’s his side of the family, and his siblings like her better, so she’s invited) Should be interesting, and is luckily short. YAY! for lunch reunions. It will be a crowd, I’m one of 23 grandkids, most of whom are married and several have grandkids of their own.
That sounds like it should provide some interesting stories! Will you come back and tell us in an Open Thread after the reunion? And also, it’s kind of awesome that you get to be in charge of the meal. In my family, you’re not a Real Grownup until you’re married, so I’m never even expected to bring a dish or a pack of napkins or ANYTHING even though I’m well into my 30s. So good job being an Adult even though you’re (gasp, moan, shudder) SINGLE.
I have Catering Experience, and my mom and I are in charge together, she is my assistant. (We’ve catered weddings and other events together)
I felt like many of these things at my grandmother’s funeral last year. Also, I’ve been disinvited from all my maternal grandmother’s family reunions because of reasons.
I felt like many of these things at my grandmother's funeral last year. Also, I've been disinvited from all my maternal grandmother's family reunions because of reasons.
Seconding this. The boozier the dessert the better, in our family.
My family is extremely word game-focused, with the result that I feel terrible at Boggle whenever I play with family but generally beat non-relatives.
We've had bad experiences with those! The last couple of family beach trips, my mom actually packed her own good knives from home to make sure we had usable knives.