When the Family Styles Are So Very, Very Different

So, I realize you haven’t heard from me in a while. That is because my extended family has begun the summer invasion. And, I mean, serious arrivals.  (Not much time has been left for blog writing. However, it has been ripe with posting material.)

In the last 30 days I have been with cousins from Zurich, my sister and her family from Munich, cousins from New Jersey, and my father and stepmother from Florida. Throw in the “locals,” such as my other sister and her family, my aunt and uncle from the other side of town, and mom and stepdad on yet the other side of town, and, well, we have quite the gatherings.

Yesterday we had a barbeque at mom’s pool and tonight we have yet another barbeque at my sister’s place. Then, in the next five days, we have a dinner at our house, a restaurant-out-adults-only dinner, and two more gatherings involving various activities. Husband is a trooper. He has only asked once if anything was “optional.”

I knew Husband’s family and my family were very different from the moment he asked on, something like our second or third date, what I was doing for Christmas. I was only half way through my answer (the list was long) when his eyes started to glaze over. I do believe his sugar level dropped dangerously from all the activity he was imagining. (Good thing we were at dinner.)

Differing “family styles” have been on my mind a lot lately, thanks to the family invasion of late.

I am grateful to be able to see family who live in such far-flung locations. But, I also realize that Husband is thrown into family dynamics that are, well, dynamic. And, very, very different from his family’s make-up.

As a late bloomer bride, I assumed older age would mean adjusting to various family styles wouldn’t be so hard. I mean, we’ve adjusted to office mates and different work cultures over the years. How hard could family be?

Bwaha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! (To this day, I am amazed at the level of naiveté in which I swam, as a single person. I mean, I’m a college graduate with a successful business. How did I believe some of these things? Anyway…)

Husband’s family is quiet. Like sitting in the living room talking about “whatever” over tea. My family is, well, hmmm, how shall I explain?

Picture a leisurely Sunday afternoon with about a dozen people of varying ages engaged in a very loud game of pool baseball (literally, in the swimming pool), with someone setting off fireworks in the horse field — because it’s not dark yet and bonfire can’t be lit until it is — with the boom box spilling out Linkin Park or Barbara Streisand (take your pick because someone will inevitably try to change it when no one else is looking) causing someone else to be singing and dancing around said pool, all the while with yet another family member trying to drum up a game of pool telephone charades because pool baseball is so last year. All at once. Oh, and someone else is shouting saying let’s do [insert a very loud, physical activity] instead.

Throw in the different languages you’ll likely here at any given moment (German, French, Swiss-German, and English), and well, you better bring ear plugs or just give in. I usually just give in.

Husband has learned to give in, too. And, this is really, really something because the level of drama that occurs at my family in one night is about a decade’s worth of drama for Husband’s family. So, I must give him kudos for showing up at all. It must feel like jetting off to Mars sometimes. (Or, as my 10 year old niece once said, when you three – meaning her mom, myself and our other sister – get together, you scare me. Apparently we talk too much alike, causing much confusion.)

I am pretty sure that marrying someone later in life who is tolerant of a different “family style” is a pretty big key on the ole marriage keychain. Either that or buy a really big set of ear plugs.