You Can Go Home Again

After Matt and Kylee's wedding, we traveled even further north than we already were in order to spend a week with my in-laws. We figured as long as we'd already crossed over half the country, we might as well drive the rest of the way, you know?

Some of you may be familiar with Taylor, who is The Lumberjack's Wife. She writes a very funny blog about her life in Ruralville. In fact, you might want to go say hi to her as she has not been out of Ruralville in a week.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Okay. The reason I brought up Taylor is because of Ruralville. My in-laws (who live nowhere near Taylor, by the way) live in the Super Boonies. You've heard of the Boondocks? And possibly the Boonies? Well, travel three days and a couple of hours beyond that, and you'll reach the Super Boonies. They make Ruralville look positively cosmopolitan. How do I know? Because my phone service quit about a half hour before we got to their house. And they have internet, but it's dial-up. Dial up, people. Meaning they can't get phone calls if they're surfing the web. And you can't really surf anyway. It's more like paddling around slowly with a broken oar. That's the Super Boonies.

I freely admit it's a beautiful place. We see sights like this as we drive up there.

And sights like this are fairly common.

And this.

It's a very restful place. At least, it is once you get there. My in-laws live here year round now, but when Terry was growing up, this is where they spent their vacations. And the closer we got to their home, the more the old instincts kicked in.

For that last hour or so of the trip up there, we were traveling on roads that looked something like this. Sort of paved, but not really. And with absolutely no line down the center. It can be a pretty drive during the day, but it doesn't do a thing for me at night. Part of the reason for that is because, once we get to these roads, Indiana Jones insists on driving down the center of the road.

Since I was raised to drive on the right hand side, this bugs me.

Indiana insists it's because of the deer. Occasionally, a deer will wander out of the forest and meander--or leap, or run or something--across the roads. If you're driving down the middle of the road, then you have time to react, no matter which side of the forest the deer comes out of.

Okay. I suppose that makes sense in a theoretical kind of way. But I had a few issues with his reasoning. He wasn't an eighteen-year-old kid driving a little Nova or a motorcycle. He was driving a 12-passenger diesel van full of kids. And we were pulling a large trailer behind us. The noise alone probably scared away every deer for a thirty mile radius.

If that weren't enough, we weren't meandering along those roads ourselves. The closer we got to the "old homestead" the more lead he got in his foot. I don't think we would have had time to see a deer coming out of the woods anyway. Not to mention, it was 11:00 at night.

But my biggest worry was not with what was coming out of the woods. No, my biggest fear was what else was flying along the roads that night. There isn't a lot of traffic up there. Ever. What traffic there is, tends to go fast. Almost as fast as we were going. A deer jumping out from the side of the road might cause some damage, but what about the head on collision we were begging to find?

Indiana did not appreciate my questioning his logic. So I swallowed my thoughts and clutched the arm of the seat as we rocketed through the night. At one point one of the boys asked about the strange light in the sky over the hill ahead of us.

"That would be headlights," I answered in a tight voice. "Heading straight for us."

"I can see them in time!" No one likes a backseat driver. He liked even less when I implied that they might not see us in time.

At one point I saw a sign just as we whipped past it. It indicated that F-30 veered to the right. We continued straight. I cleared my throat and then asked if we were going a different way than usual. He didn't see the sign, but I finally convinced him that we were headed the wrong way. Then I sat with my eyes closed as he attempted to use a fire lane to turn around.

Fire lanes aren't that big anyway. And this one was situated on a curve in the road.

Did I mention we were pulling a trailer? Or that there was a ditch on the other side? As he grunted and maneuvered, I prayed that we wouldn't see that telltale glow that signaled fast-approaching headlights sweeping around the curve.

We finally got headed back in the right direction, although he never did thank me for spotting the turn and preventing us from driving around in Huron National Forest for the rest of the night.

 We were about half a mile from the in-laws when we passed a sign like this.

Since gravel and dust had been flying fast and furious for the better part of an hour, I thought the Department of Transportation was a little late in noticing where the paved road ended, but whatever.

And finally, after traveling down Bean Hill Road and Procunier (no, that's not Peculiar), we turned down the road that's one letter away from being named after a prophylactic. One turn more and then we arrived.

In spite of being a little tense, what with the no cell phone service and all, we did have a great time. We rode ATV's through the woods, the boys went fishing, we went biking until my father-in-law casually mentioned that they'd had problems with bears lately, we went on walks (close to the house) and relaxed. One day I even took the boys the 45 minute ride to town, where I sat in a chair on the beach while they spent three hours playing in Lake Huron. It was cold enough that I eventually wrapped up in a towel, but not before getting blistered beyond belief. Who knew you could burn when you were that cold? Indiana said I got freezer burn.

Clever guy.

A week later we packed up, said our good-byes and headed back to civilization.

Down the middle of the road, of course.

Mama Grizzly In-Laws Part III

If you want to read the whole story of how I met my future daughter-in-law you can go to part one and then part two.

To summarize, I had finally been convinced, against my better judgment, to agree to Kylee's coming to visit us during the week of Vacation Bible School. I figured it was only for a week, but I also told Matt that she would need to help with VBS, and he said she would be glad to.

Uh huh.

I was convinced we were going to be visited by a bubble-headed girl who was more interested in enjoying a week of vacation than in working Vacation Bible School. I also figured if she was infatuated enough with my son to buy an airline ticket in order to see him, especially after only meeting him twice, she would probably be a big distraction for him too. As I pondered work assignments, I debated whether to put her in the full class of crying kids with the slightly more difficult teacher, or the smaller class with the teacher Kylee was sure to enjoy working along side.

Don't look at me that way. I put her in the easier class. I'm not a complete monster.

I didn't get to meet Kylee until the first morning of VBS. Our theme was western last year, and Kylee had even dressed for the part, right down to the boots if I remember correctly. She was already working in her assigned class when I spotted her after the teachers' meeting. She worked hard all week. The only thing that reminded me she hadn't come all this way for VBS was the look of adoration on her face when she watched Matt leading the kids in singing or playing Let's Make A Deal.

I didn't get to know her very well that week as I had to head to work each after VBS. Most evenings when I got home, Kylee and Matt were out somewhere, and he usually dropped her off before coming back home. The boys told me she joined in with their Nerf gun fights, and the one night she and Matt ate supper with us, she didn't complain when I served spaghetti, even though that's what they'd eaten the night before at someone else's house.

Matt and Kylee threw themselves into VBS so well, that most of our own church people didn't realize she was there to visit Matt. That changed on Wednesday night at Bible study, though. When he walked in and sat down with her, heads turned, eyebrows raised and people made a beeline for them during the shake-hands song. Those that weren't close enough to reach them, hurried over to me for information.

"Is she his girlfriend?"

"How long have they been dating?"

"She's cute! What's she like?"

I smiled and nodded and tried not to let on what little information I had. Truth was, though, that during the week Matt had approached his dad and told him he really liked Kylee and wanted to officially start dating her, but he wanted to be sure he had our blessing first. When my husband asked my opinion, I said I was fine with them dating, but I wasn't ready yet to say this was going to be a permanent relationship.

Still, there was something different about this time ...

By the end of the week I'd actually gotten one five minute conversation with Kylee. We discussed purses and shoes--obviously important subjects for a meeting of the minds. I still didn't feel like I knew her very well. But  hugged her good-bye and--sincerely--asked her to come back again. She confidently assured me she would be.

That night as we turned in, Terry and I discussed the week, and our conversation turned to Matt and Kylee. Then I voiced something I'd almost been afraid to say out loud.

"This is it, isn't it? I mean, she's the one."

"I think she probably is."

I could see the question in his eyes. "I'm okay with this," I assured him.

He smiled. "So am I."

Mama Grizzly In-Laws Part II

This is the post (series of posts) where I tell how I met my future daughter-in-law. I started this post about two weeks ago, so I can understand if you are confused about the Part II in my title and are wondering what I am talking about. If you want to start at the beginning--and really, you do want to start at the beginning--you can click here. When you finish reading that, come back here and read this post.  Isn't that neat how that works out?

I should also point out that you can chalk up my actions either to the fact that I have a tendency to overreact  to things, or to the fact that my son lacks the ability to communicate very well. I'm gonna go with the last one and here's why:  Matt had been praying for some time about God's will for his life. He had specifically been praying about a future mate, and apparently he was aware of God's leading soon after he met Kylee.

Kylee had also been praying for God's will in regard to a future spouse, and she also felt God leading soon after she met Matt.

So God was working behind the scenes, but no one told me that. What I was told was that Matt had met this girl twice, and now he wanted her to come down and meet the family. And by the way, he wanted her to come during one of the busiest weeks of our lives.

You know how, when you're watching something on television, there's background music and then all of a sudden something happens and you hear a sound effect like a needle scratching across a record and all music and sound comes to a complete stop? And now you know where I was at. Meeting the parents is a big step. I don't know how long you should know someone before you take that step, but I was pretty sure you should have met more than twice.

As I scrambled for how to slam on the brakes, I pelted him with questions.

Why this girl? His answer--because I like her and she's hot. See what I mean about his communication skills? Was that really the way to convince a mother this was a good idea?

 Who is paying for her ticket? She is.

 Does she have a round trip ticket? It's always best not to assume these things. Matt rolled his eyes and assured me that yes, she did have a round trip ticket.

While Matt was very confident in what he wanted, I still felt like things were moving too fast, and I was sure I had the perfect argument. He wanted Kylee to come during Vacation Bible School. Clearly he couldn't have picked a worse time to bring in a visitor or plan a "meet the family" time. So I was sure I had him when I asked why he wanted that particular time. But he had an answer for that too.

"Serving the Lord and being up to our elbows in church work is the heart and soul of who we are, Mom," he explained as if I didn't know that. "I want Kylee to see what we're all about and realize what's most important to us right from the start."

Rats. How could I argue with that? I couldn't, but I still have one question left to ask.

Where was she going to stay?

 I wasn't being mean-spirited. It was a legitimate question. We already had one of Matt's college friends staying with us for the summer, plus we had a missionary family staying with us for the week of VBS. We literally didn't have room for another house guest. Matt had already considered that, too. He mentioned some friends that not only had room, but would be glad to have her.

So with all my arguments and reasoning blown to the wind, I had no reason not to agree that Kylee could come for a visit. I decided that I didn't mind that so much. After all, it was only one week, right? What was one week out of our lives?

I think I need to start thinking longer term.

Mama Grizzly In-Laws

So this year I'm learning something totally new. I've got to learn how to be a mama-in-law. No easy fete, I can tell you. (Or is it feat?) Dictionary.com says it's a feat. Either way, it's a stretch for me. Everyone's heard the horror stories. And who hasn't seen an episode of Everbody Loves Raymond? Just a TV show you say? Maybe. But we actually used to know a family that could have modeled for that show. Backhanded insults masquerading as compliments. The mother-in-law cleaning the daughter-in-law's house. Constant undermining and manipulation. I think she could've given lessons to Machiavelli. Ultimately the daughter-in-law learned to hold her own. She wasn't as good at manipulation, but she knew a thing or two about Japanese wrestling and the art of using your opponent's own weight against him. After that the matches were a little more even and a lot more fun to watch. Pop some popcorn and we had better entertainment than wrestling. More realistic, too. The mother-in-law was still champ, but at least the daughter-in-law won a few rounds.

As we watched the daughter-in-law crawl from the ring one night, Matt turned to me and begged me to never treat his future wife that way. He was in high school at the time, and had no idea who his future wife might be, but still ...

Like any good mother, I took the opportunity to teach him that, when he was married, he and his wife would be one. She should come first in his life, and if I ever forgot that important point, he had my permission to remind me of that fact. I did add that I thought 32 hours of labor entitled me to a card and flowers on Mother's Day and a call on my birthday, but other than that, she was Number One.

Also like any good mother, I added a couple of clauses to the contract--the wife was Number One after she became the wife (girlfriend doesn't get the same status), and I would never be mean to a daughter-in-law, assuming he chose a daughter-in-law that I approved of. That may sound harsh, but let's face it--I put over two decades into raising that boy, and I was not about to turn him over to the first Sarah, Jane or Mary that smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

In spite of the fact that I tried to raise him to be discerning, a pretty face went a long way with Matt. Not so with me. A girl had to be more than pretty before I gave the nod of approval. This discriminating attitude might be why I found out about Matt's first college girlfriend by accident. He was going on and on about a gift "A" had given him for Valentine's Day, while I was still trying to figure out just exactly why this was the first I was hearing about "A".

After awhile it became apparent why "A" was flying under the radar. She was nice, but she was definitely not permanent Boyd material. I feel it's important for my children to make use of all of their parents' vast accumulation of knowledge, so I did my best to gently pass on what I knew about quality mates. Don't get me wrong--I wasn't rude or insulting. But I did not want him to make the colossal mistake of interpreting a lack of disapproval as approval.

Matt's relationship with "A" drifted apart naturally at the end of the semester, an occurrence my husband had predicted would happen. Without any help from us, I might add. Relieved, but fearing that perhaps we had narrowly escaped disaster, I asked Matt if perhaps he had ever gotten the impression that we approved of "A" as his girlfriend. No, he assured me dryly. He was well aware that we weren't happy that he was dating her. I stared at him. "And you still went on and dated her for almost six months?"

That was the end of that conversation.

Matt went on to date other girls after that, but he never really settled down to one girl. In fact, he had a lot of friends that were girls. He chatted with them on facebook and texted with different girls off and on.  I knew for a fact that a couple of those girls wanted more than friendship, but as long as they didn't push for anything more, Matt was willing to let the friendships stand.

Friendships I didn't mind. So as he mentioned this girl or that girl, I didn't do much more than nod or smile. I wasn't worried about electronic friendships. That wasn't like dating. At least, I wasn't worried until he mentioned a girl he'd met at the beginning of the summer. They'd actually met twice the week he'd visited her town, but then they'd become facebook friends and they texted and called each other occasionally.

And then Matt said he wanted her to come for a visit. Did I mention he'd only met her twice? And he wanted her to come meet the family. Her name was Kylee.

And Mama Grizzly reared her ugly head.