Meeting the Parents

The Boy’s parents flew in for the weekend before Halloween. I think anyone meeting the parents for the first time is nervous, but this time left me even more anxious. This was 6 months in. Not a huge amount of time granted, but long enough to have developed a serious emotional attachment and to fear the influence that his parents’ evaluation might have on the relationship. (I don’t think he’s the kind of man to do what his parents say just because they’re his parents, my concern was more that no one likes being the cause of or the reason for there being distance between your sig-o and their parents.) 

In addition, his dad was born in Russia and became an adult in Israel. His mom was born in America and became an adult in Israel. That’s a lotta cultures to throw into one room and specifically two that I’m not very familiar with. What if I said or did something wrong?

Add in the history of disapproval over the phone from the past (his dad saying to leave me, to go out with someone else and his mom voicing concerns over the Conservative conversion at least once) and I’m surprised I could even go to my coworker’s kid’s Bat Mitzvah that morning.

We only met for a few hours, but it didn’t go as badly as many of the possibilities conceived by my imagination. Which is good. Now, when his dad calls, he even tells The Boy to say hi to me. And they’ve offered to help me with my Hebrew. And they were disappointed that I wasn’t coming up for Thanksgiving.  it’s a start!


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