Party. Yay.
Aug. 29th, 2004 11:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jennyaxeYesterday was the day for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cdybedahl's mother's annual crayfish party. I like his family, and I like crayfish, so I was in rather a good mood when we left for the 200 km drive to Smedjebacken. (That's a village in Dalarna, where Calle's grandfather was born. The party is held in the house he still owns there; it's used as a vacation house for the family.)
Now, I like my MIL very much. She's a thoughtful and loving woman, she has a sense of humour that keeps her up in spite of her painful fibromyalgia. But there are a few things on which we do not see eye to eye. At all.
One of these things is the concept of "party games". MIL appears to be of the same persuasion as Sir John Middleton in "Sense and Sensibility" - it's not enough to invite people who get along and give them an opportunity to actually talk with one another; you also have to have games in which everyone joins and which are as silly and noisy as possible. Did I mention the part about everyone joining? It's compulsory, see. Except for MIL herself and her daughter, because they are in charge of leading the games and keeping tabs on which team wins. Because, obviously, you can't have a proper game unless someone loses.
The thing is that I loathe games like this. Especially the parts where you have to stand or run around for anything more than a few minutes. And while I don't expect everyone to always remember everything that affects my health, I do feel that someone as close to us as MIL would know by now that I don't do standing or running very well. If nothing else, my using a cane could be considered a hint. And as we'd gone over all that the previous year, we felt fairly certain that both Calle and I wouldn't be pestered into joining the games. Especially as MIL knew I'd been down with a migraine all Friday.
We got to the house at about 15.30. We'd been told that the games would start at 15, so we certainly hoped to miss them. I went straight up to the bedroom we use (they do make sure that I get one where I can go to bed early and not be disturbed by other people (than Calle) going to bed) for a rest. Calle joined me after a while, and we lay half sleeping and cuddling, expecting to be called when the actual dinner started.
At 17, MIL knocked on our door and told us that the party was starting. We rubbed most of the sleep from our eyes and went outside, got drings (there was a bowl of something for most people and a glass each of something non-alcoholic for me and the children) and we got some hors d'oeuvres which were very tasty. So far, so good.
Then MIL took out papers and proceeded to call us into two teams, steadfastly ignoring anything that sounded like "no, we don't want to be in on this, we really really really don't!
The gameplaying to two and a half hours, most of it taken up by MIL and SIL not agreeing on the rules, or forgetting to mention some of them, or correcting eachother and debating on who was right. As far as I could tell, there were five people who actually enjoyed the thing - the two children who were old enough to participate, MIL and SIL who ran the thing, and MIL's sweetie. The rest of us got more and more frustrated every time a new game was announced - "oh god, not another one! I thought that was the last one!"...
After about two hours, Calle and I went on strike. We did get some nasty looks, but at least I could sit down and have some quiet time - well, as quiet as it gets with two infants and two children running (or crawling) around and yelling at the top of their lungs.
Finally we were called to the table. Calle looked like a thundercloud. It turned out that SIL had told him that if I wasn't up to taking part in the games, I should have told them that earlier. Because, you know, it's not as if they would know that if we didn't tell them. Having known me for four years, having heard both Calle and me talking about how we dislike being coerced into playing games and how tired I get from being around lots of noisy people each and every time we go to that stupid crabfish party, is apparently not enough notice.
The end result was that we decided to drive home instead of stay the night. We left at about 20.30, and got home two hours later. Today I'm going to go riding - I know I'll be tired and in pain afterwards, but then I will have chosen the activity that's causing it, not having it foisted upon me over my protests.
At the moment I'm not inclined to go to the next annual party. Also I'm much less inclined to sew something nice for SIL's children for Christmas. The latter part may pass; the former probably won't. I hope.
cdybedahl's mother's annual crayfish party. I like his family, and I like crayfish, so I was in rather a good mood when we left for the 200 km drive to Smedjebacken. (That's a village in Dalarna, where Calle's grandfather was born. The party is held in the house he still owns there; it's used as a vacation house for the family.)Now, I like my MIL very much. She's a thoughtful and loving woman, she has a sense of humour that keeps her up in spite of her painful fibromyalgia. But there are a few things on which we do not see eye to eye. At all.
One of these things is the concept of "party games". MIL appears to be of the same persuasion as Sir John Middleton in "Sense and Sensibility" - it's not enough to invite people who get along and give them an opportunity to actually talk with one another; you also have to have games in which everyone joins and which are as silly and noisy as possible. Did I mention the part about everyone joining? It's compulsory, see. Except for MIL herself and her daughter, because they are in charge of leading the games and keeping tabs on which team wins. Because, obviously, you can't have a proper game unless someone loses.
The thing is that I loathe games like this. Especially the parts where you have to stand or run around for anything more than a few minutes. And while I don't expect everyone to always remember everything that affects my health, I do feel that someone as close to us as MIL would know by now that I don't do standing or running very well. If nothing else, my using a cane could be considered a hint. And as we'd gone over all that the previous year, we felt fairly certain that both Calle and I wouldn't be pestered into joining the games. Especially as MIL knew I'd been down with a migraine all Friday.
We got to the house at about 15.30. We'd been told that the games would start at 15, so we certainly hoped to miss them. I went straight up to the bedroom we use (they do make sure that I get one where I can go to bed early and not be disturbed by other people (than Calle) going to bed) for a rest. Calle joined me after a while, and we lay half sleeping and cuddling, expecting to be called when the actual dinner started.
At 17, MIL knocked on our door and told us that the party was starting. We rubbed most of the sleep from our eyes and went outside, got drings (there was a bowl of something for most people and a glass each of something non-alcoholic for me and the children) and we got some hors d'oeuvres which were very tasty. So far, so good.
Then MIL took out papers and proceeded to call us into two teams, steadfastly ignoring anything that sounded like "no, we don't want to be in on this, we really really really don't!
The gameplaying to two and a half hours, most of it taken up by MIL and SIL not agreeing on the rules, or forgetting to mention some of them, or correcting eachother and debating on who was right. As far as I could tell, there were five people who actually enjoyed the thing - the two children who were old enough to participate, MIL and SIL who ran the thing, and MIL's sweetie. The rest of us got more and more frustrated every time a new game was announced - "oh god, not another one! I thought that was the last one!"...
After about two hours, Calle and I went on strike. We did get some nasty looks, but at least I could sit down and have some quiet time - well, as quiet as it gets with two infants and two children running (or crawling) around and yelling at the top of their lungs.
Finally we were called to the table. Calle looked like a thundercloud. It turned out that SIL had told him that if I wasn't up to taking part in the games, I should have told them that earlier. Because, you know, it's not as if they would know that if we didn't tell them. Having known me for four years, having heard both Calle and me talking about how we dislike being coerced into playing games and how tired I get from being around lots of noisy people each and every time we go to that stupid crabfish party, is apparently not enough notice.
The end result was that we decided to drive home instead of stay the night. We left at about 20.30, and got home two hours later. Today I'm going to go riding - I know I'll be tired and in pain afterwards, but then I will have chosen the activity that's causing it, not having it foisted upon me over my protests.
At the moment I'm not inclined to go to the next annual party. Also I'm much less inclined to sew something nice for SIL's children for Christmas. The latter part may pass; the former probably won't. I hope.
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Date: 2004-08-29 08:30 am (UTC)Hope you have a nice ride today.
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Date: 2004-08-29 08:57 am (UTC)Gina
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Date: 2004-08-30 09:23 am (UTC)A very small hint, yes indeed. It's amazing how canes, asthma puffers and so on can't be seen. I expect a wheel chair and oxygen tank have the power to teleport the user to a frigid moon of Arcturus, where the thoughtless actually belong.
I'm sorry to hear that you've been treated this way.