Oh, family. The word can mean any- and everything, and is wont to change at the sip of a drink. What you consider family today, may not be who you have tomorrow.
On Monday I flew to Germany with my Abs, to spend a planned a month long vacation with my MIL - I'm sure you haven't forgotten those stories. < I should have known better.>
The flight was um......well......full of screaming children. I was able to test my reflexes with the child who kicked my chair repeatedly and scared the crap out of me. The man next to me held his screaming child, and got up, and down, and up, and down, to try and soothe him.
After arriving in Frankfurt, and being greeted by my husband's Uncle (who speaks little to no English), we were on our way. We spent the next few days with my husband's Aunt and Uncle. One night, after I had put my Abs to bed, and grew tired of rot wein & German tv, I went to grab a beer with my husband's cousin who graciously offered to rescue me from the personal hell I was living. I worked on my German with him, and he worked on his English with me (he is a fan of the double-negative). When I came home that night my MIL went bat-sh$#-crazy on me. No really. In a foreign country, Germany to be exact, where she speaks the language, my MIL flung the door open on me to begin screaming at the top of her lungs to GET OUT. That the month long European vacation that we had meticulously planned, was now going to consist of me renting my own car & going my own way with Abs, and she would now be touring Europe via the train system. She spewed lies upon hurt upon anger upon displaced-trust onto me in mere moments.
All of this was completely out-of-the-blue, and totally unprovoked. Also, it was all within earshot of Abs.
I was devastated. I didn't know what to do, so I called Gunner. Then I called my mom. Next.......I called my friend Abbey. My friend Abbey who moved here to Germany in January of this year. My friend Abbey who was stationed at Fort Hood with me. My friend Abbey who has three kids, a mother-in-law visiting, and a husband who recently had surgery and is out of commission. Oh yeah, THAT Abbey.
I called her at 2:30 in the morning crying. Sobbing would probably be more exact--I couldn't talk or breathe. In between my sobs and trying to explain how I was going to be kicked out because my MIL was drunk and ridiculous, and how I was going to be left on the side of the road in a country where I didn't speak the language and with a daughter who didn't understand all of the anger coming from her Oma, Abbey didn't bat an eye at 2:30 in the morning. Instead I heard her calmly asking me if she needed to be there in the morning to pick me up and if we wanted to stay at her house for a while.
You know that person, where youareinacrappysituation and youcantbelievethisishappeningtoyou and youdontknowwhatelsetodo, and you call said person and suddenly everything will be okay. That is my Abbey.
She came and picked me up the next morning - a three-hour drive for her - and scooped me and Abs off of the side of the road where we were had been kicked out to the curb, literally. We stopped and ate some lunch, and off we drove to her house. We laughed about dying ducks, lumber, and other ridiculously silly stuff.
As I write this, I am sitting in her living room with her. We have eaten dinner, had some Mexican Martini's, eaten too many Happy Hippos, and are planning my next move. Abs came to me tonight and told me that she is having an amazing time here. She has seemingly forgotten about the drama for last night, and is happily settling into this "new" family that the Military helped to create.
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