Meet the Parents

Nope nope nope. I’m not meeting his dad, family are off limits, it’s much too early in the relationship to ask such things.

I got the, “But my dad is really great, you’ll love him.”

He got the, “This isn’t fair, you haven’t met my family yet, why do I have to meet yours?”

Yes, I am dramatic and immature and make a weak argument. Why he’s still with me, we’ll never know.

Long story short, he won and my pettiness was shown up.

He proudly introduced me to his dad, and I pathetically laughed at nothing funny and otherwise sat mute. Of the four times I spoke to him, two times I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. The first incident was worse than the second.

After boyfriend left to make us tea, it was just me and boyfriend’s dad. Boyfriend’s brother walked past and I said, “Hey, come sit with us.” His reply was, “I’m just going to put a shirt on.” I responded with, “No! You look great without a shirt, come sit.” All the while, boyfriend’s dad was watching.

The second, albeit not as bad, was finally building up the courage to make conversation with the dad by asking him if he enjoys living in the country that he has been living in for the last ten years. When he said yes, I replied with the most surprised, “Really?” He’s ever heard.

Now you’ll understand why I really didn’t want to meet the parents; not because I was worried that they wouldn’t be nice, but because I knew that I would be a complete disaster.

Good luck to his mom who gets to meet me next week.

“They don’t know that we know they know we know”- Phoebe

“Our friends are flying back to England tonight, and they are just desperate to visit the Voortrekker Monument before they leave. You studied history right? Awesome, so I’ve told them that you will go in my place and be their tour guide.”

“Uuuum I really don’t know that much about the monument, I don’t think I’ll be much of a tour guide.”

“Nonsense! You’ll be fine, you probably have more knowledge on it than you think you do.”

While you spent your Tuesday morning reading over reports, calming excitable children down, cooking delicious breakfasts for your customers or whatever else your vocation requires, I was sitting in the backseat of a minibus, frantically googling interesting facts about the Voortrekker Monument.

My girls that I teach, sitting on either side of me, were canning themselves at my expense. Snacks were passed to me on the drive and I absent mindedly, stress- ate them all.

When we eventually got there, everyone turned to me, eight pairs of eyes expectantly waiting to hear where we should head over to first. I three- sixtied on the spot to get a lay of the land and pointed toward the huge building competing with the sun for a space in the sky. “This way first, I guess…”

Questions were asked as soon as we hit the steps and I quickly perfected the, “is she shaking or nodding her head” talent.

I will say that the building is beautiful, the stone is smooth and the views are magnificent. The stairs were many and our legs were shaky afterwards. The planning of the building must have been extensive and it’s safe to say that I, the tour guide, learned almost as much as they did, my tourists.

So many awkward moments of, “I think that could have happened…” and ” we didn’t learn that in history” (although it could have also been that I wasn’t listening in that part of the class).

My girls followed me throughout the day, laughing loudly when I gave an unsure answer and enjoying my red, and growing redder, face.

Moments of called- for blushing seem to follow me wherever I go, but I guess I’m learning how to live in it, embrace it, and share it with you guys- allow you all to laugh at my expense as well. At least the awkwardness isn’t experienced in vain.

But let’s also just say that there may or may not be some lovely British people trawling the streets of England with a warped view of South African history, because of a history student who couldn’t remember her facts.

I say more dumb things before 9 am than most people say all day

A packet of Skittles and a piece of paper sat on the table between us, and three little faces looked up to me with much skepticism and distrust.

“I’m sorry guys, I have a weird personality. You’ll get used to me eventually.” I got unconvinced stares back as a reply.

I bought Skittles and they had to tell me something about themselves depending on what colour Skittle they had picked out. They would stare at the pink sweet in their hand, stare back at me, shrug their shoulders. Nope, they don’t know where in the world they would like to visit.

After four or five rounds of this endured form of torture, where I was the only one answering my own questions with a stupid, over- exaggerated smile on my face, I finally called it quits. The relief on their faces was a little disappointing. But we must remember that I’m new, they’re used to their former home school tutor, and let’s be honest, I was right, my personality is weird.

I’m the girl who gets comfortable in her own thoughts while someone is trying to have a conversation with me. I will form an idea in my head over a topic, and long after we have moved on to better conversation, I will randomly bring up the topic again. Sometimes I laugh out loud over what I’m thinking – my friends are starting to get used to the answer “Sorry, I’m just laughing over something I thought about.”

I can be so awkward, and have perfected the awkward silence, the awkward side hug, the awkward laugh where everyone knows I don’t really find what I’m laughing at funny.

Last night my housemate asked me what she has in her fridge to make a salad, and my reply was, “Cheese.”

Sorry kiddies, the worst is yet to come.

Constantly asking myself, “Why are you like this?”