The Big Deal

So... I still haven't told my parents that Scott moved in. He was giving me until Christmas to tell them (or else? He'll tell them himself?) and I sort of figured I would say something like, "Scott and I are talking about him moving in in the new year," and feel it out from there. There's no real plan.

Scott is one of the many people who wants to know what the big deal is. The big deal is I'm the youngest of my family. In my mother's side of the family (one might want to read the beginning of my 100 Things to get an idea about my family), this is unchartered territory. I am the first person on this side of the family to ever live with someone out of wedlock. I don't even have an eccentric aunt to back me up in this. My brother married right out of college and continues to do no wrong, and then there's me. I don't even feel the need to elaborate on that statement: and then there's me. On the flip side, my mother is so desperate for me to settle down that she might be okay with this. Might. I sort of feel like I'm poking a sleeping bear with that one.

Then there's my father's side of the family. They actually went through this once before with my step-sister. Her story is pretty much the same as mine: he moved in at four months and they hid it for about six months. And when my step-mother and father found out, they didn't speak to her for about a year. When they did finally speak to her, every conversation contained some cow and milk reference.

The end story for my sister is that they married and have two kids together. A couple of months ago, I sat on her couch and visited her new baby while I prodded for the details about her living situation that I couldn't remember. She was a full proponent of Scott moving in even when she had yet to meet him and I was still unsure if he should come over or not.

When Scott and I drove out to my father's house for dinner, we were surprised to see my sister just leaving with her family. I squeezed her hand, "Scott moved in," I mumbled.

"Don't tell your father," she mumbled back. "I asked that since you had a bigger apartment if Scott was going to move in, and he got really angry and said, 'He better not!'" She poked the bear and the bear growled.

So that's the big deal.

Technically, I have six more weeks to figure out what to do. But then I realized that next week is Thanksgiving. My mother is driving to pick up my only remaining grandmother and bringing her back here, and my grandmother has been talking non-stop how she wants to see my new apartment. Scott doesn't have a lot of stuff and I could probably fake it for her, but I could never get it past my mother. I have a week to tell my mother, and then it's just a matter of time before my father finds out.

Now where's the Tylenol?