My Name is Mudd

The kids and I had a wonderful time shopping and eating our way through my college town. Bellies and shopping bags full, we piled into the car and hit the road vowing to be tour guides for J. and the girls on a return trip this summer. Then they dozed off into much needed naps.

I was fading on the ride and called J. to be talked the rest of the way home.

He told me that he'd mentioned to his teen his inkling about Em returning from Disney pregnant; what isn't a surprise you can be prepared to be disappointed by.

She was not surprised at all even now. "Dad, everyone in the bridal party is already taking bets on how long it takes. Want in on the pool?"

So much ado about nothing, my derriere. If there was a will there would be a way. So long as it wasn't too icky. She could close her eyes and do it once.

Like I said in my very first post: Nothing brings out your family weirdness like a wedding or a new baby. And now we might have both. A double header. The family dysfunction shotgun was loaded for bear.

But J. was feeling a little better - relieved actually, now that the O'Malley-Scungili Affair had taken its place in the history books. And personally, I was feeling, in a twisted way, better about the Big Snub to my kids. And me. And J.

Em had openly disrespected her father in front of scores of family and friends and strangers while he poured his heart out, and evidently the contents of his wallet.

She had chastised a bridesmaid - who had paid for a dress, alterations, shoes, a mani, a pedi, an up do, plane tickets, a hotel room and a gift, all to honor her friend on her wedding day. And I'd bet there were Spanx and a really decent bra involved for the new mom, too.

She had disregarded, disappointed and dismissed her sister, her maid of honor, who had given her a personal, creative, meaningful gift she'd toiled over even while she finished her degree, studied for and aced her boards, held a full time job in her chosen profession and a part time one just for extra money, and managed to hold up her end of a thriving relationship - all while herding the cats on this vaudeville show.

Hell, Em had flexed her Alpha Dog muscle with Chuck in full view of his posse. She may as well have removed his penis and stashed it in her loot bag before dragging him down the aisle by his earlobe.

I was on the periphery of her world. An easy snub. In hindsight, J. and I should have anticipated the snub. It would have saved me the aggravation and thousands of words, and J. could have told her to go s*** in her hat when she asked him to read. Then we both could have skipped the whole shindig.

There is one thing that leaves me a little unsettled though. It would have been a glaring departure from the norm for J. to be at this event, at any event, without me. Yet not one person inquired as to my whereabouts.

Perhaps they ignored the elephant in the room and did not ask because they thought maybe we'd broken up. Not wanting to be nosey. Not wanting to harsh anyone's mellow.

But I don't think so.

No. I think no one asked because they knew. In a not so unexpected circling-of-wagons war tactic, Endora had gone out and poisoned the well. A smear campaign against me so no one would find fault in their abominable social faux pas.

Family weirdness aplenty.