Doing a lot of thinking about telling my parents we’re getting married. That sounds like the sort of conversation that should be joyful, but as with so many things in families, it’s more complicated than it should be. My mom (who is the Minister of Foreign Affairs in their household) really doesn’t like Z, although over the last three or so years of our six-year relationship, she has been civil to him most of the time.

So Goddess knows how that’s going to go. I really hate drama. I will ride to the end of the Earth on an ill-fitting bicycle to avoid conflict. But my mom is a fucking drama queen. I don’t use that choice of words to be cruel. She was dealt a tough hand in her life, didn’t have healthy role models growing up, and has exhibited a lot of strength and wit in getting by as an adult. BUT. She doesn’t have a mature approach to dealing with people who are different than her set of ideals. (Z has flaws. I get it. But she can’t get past her perception of those flaws.)

Although she does try, she also doesn’t really have a handle on when it’s appropriate to just let me live my life. (Case in point – she called me yesterday all worried about whether or not I pluck my eyebrows. She is seriously worried that, should I pluck my eyebrows, they’ll never grow back and I will regret it terribly when I’m older. Of course, I reassured her that I would never do such a thing. Because really, do I want to have a fight about my eyebrows? I do not.)

So all this is to say that, while I want to do the right thing, and have my parents over for a nice dinner and tell them, like a group of mature adults that Z and I have decided to solemnize our relationship, there is a very real potential that it could all go sideways. Best case scenario: a sort of horrified silence, and an undertone of sadness to the rest of the evening, because they have GOT to have seen this coming. Worst case scenario: sobbing, insane accusations, damaged relationships.

We’re going to do it anyways, because the time is here for me to be the grownup in my relationship with my parents. I need to set the tone of mature, compassionate interactions. If I think telling them we’re getting married is going to be a gong show, wait until we tell them we’re having a baby. Wait until we tell them that baby is going to the supreme evil DAYCARE. (Remember the eyebrow conversation? Well my mom doesn’t believe in daycare. Jesus.)

Grown-up me. Strong me. While I certainly have the capacity to over-think anything at all, I am reasonably sure that this is what I want. Z and I have a low-drama, supportive relationship, and we make each other happy. I know there is nothing worse than parental disapproval – I remember my friend M all in knots when he first moved in with his then-girlfriend, because his Catholic parents disapproved. It’s a terrible feeling. But the solution is just to be sensitive and considerate of them, and try to have a mature relationship with them WHILE LIVING YOUR LIFE. And that’s what we are planning to do. Next weekend.