Bad Daughter

NOTICE: This is a whine. Bypass if you are not in the mood.

I received an overdose of maternal guilt and disapproval last night. It, compounded by the pressure to complete a lot of work in a short period of time and the scant selection of my favorite genre of frivolous novels at CLP has left me in a cranky, cranky mood.

I am a bad daughter right now because I dared to voice the idea that I would probably not attend the second of two wedding showers in honor of my future sister-in-law.

Before I go further into revealing what an awful person I am, I like K. She makes my younger brother, who I adore, glow with happiness. Her biggest flaw is that she is a little right wing-ish, but so is my brother. Since she makes him very happy, I'm willing to overlook the flaw.

The first shower is being hosted by my mother in my hometown, ostensibly because there are a lot of people reluctant to travel the 1.25 hours to the location of the second fiesta. I am happily driving the 2.5 hours to make it to this event, which is being held early on a Saturday afternoon.

The second is being hosted by K's friends and family, approximately 4 hours from Pittsburgh (and 1.25 hours from my parents house). The date has changed and the new day is on a Sunday, in the mid-afternoon, on a weekend in which I already have plans involving a considerable amount of driving.

Mom's reasoning is that since both of her sisters are driving the 4+ hours to attend K's first shower, then I have no reason for missing her second one. The irony that she is hosting the first event because people are reluctant to travel 1.25 hours is lost on her. So is the fact that both of her sisters would have a shorter drive if they attended the second one.

I don't know what it is about weddings that make normally sane people (like my mother) turn into lunatics. I hoped to be excluded from crazy behavior this time around, since I was the target six years ago when I got married. When I learned that my role in the wedding would be limited to doing a reading, I was thrilled. No bridesmaid duties, no bridesmaid dress (which is pretty, just not on me), no obligation to decorate the church or reception hall. The only thing I had to do was buy an outrageously expensive gift and have a good time.

Until I met the disapproving silence of my mother on the phone last night. Never mind that I have the full force of Miss Manners, Dear Prudence and Emily Post behind me on this one.

If that was not enough, the mother-in-law called an hour later, requesting our presence at Sunday breakfast, with a huge side of maternal guilt.