Meet the (Romanian) Fockers

Yup, it was finally time to meet "the Fockers". My Good Daughter has been dating this guy for 3 years and we have met his parents on occasion, but have never been to their house. Friday night they invited us for a Saturday late afternoon drunch (dinner/lunch - for lack of a better word). It was too late to buy them a small gift, all the stores were already closed. But I did hide the chocolates that the Danish guests brought me a week ago or so. Phew!

Caveman H. was absolutely foul, foul, FOUL with me and stayed in his cave the entire day - which was great for me, but my daughter's boyfriend was concerned he won't show up and "what will he say to his parents."

"Don't worry, he'll show, or he'll be short two testicles." I assured him.

My 13 year old Pest Son insisted on coming with us. He had been annoying everyone all day. Hubby insisted he could go, which would have bugged the shit out of all of us. He did it so he could look like the "good parent" and so that I should look like the "evil mother". Needless to say, Pest Son was furious when I gave him a final NO on the matter.

While in the car, I get two phone calls:

"I'm tearing up your..." (click) - that was me hanging up on him. I didn't want to know what the fuck he was tearing up.

About 5 minutes later I get another call.

"I'm throwing out all of your....." (click). I didn't want to know that one either.

I feel comfortable with my daughter's boyfriend's family. Even though they've been here 22 years, they are still immigrants (from Romania), as we are - not long-time-Israelis with established roots here and 700 relatives to help them out in case they fall. These people also had a rough start and they worked day and night to support their 3 children.

They eat alot too, which also endeared me towards them. I tried to stick to the South Beach Diet as best as I could under the circumstances. I didn't have the rice and had one baked french fry - but happily dug into the chicken and tossed salads.

And Hubby transformed himself from Foul Caveman into Man About Town in seconds, from the moment he arrived. He spoke English to them, and they did understand him, but spoke Hebrew back. I'm sure he understood some of what was being spoken. They offered us wine and beer, but Hubby wanted the good stuff.

"Beer = cheap; wine - cheap" he told them, as Daughter and I cringed in the background - but our hosts were gracious about it and brought out Ballantyne Scotch whiskey for him.

Oh yeah, and when I got home, my Pest Son had erased all my songs from the computer (except for the ones dad likes). So he could forget about our "day out" I had planned for him on Friday.