This is a long post, sorry.
What to say? How to say it? Situations with Georg, the Best-Friend-In-Law (aka Ignatz’s godfather) tend to generate a lot of text, because there is SO much backstory, and things come on SO gradually, that by the time my head’s clear enough to write about it, I have significant ‘splaining to do. So here is a previous incident, if you’d like to get a feel for the sort of relationship we have.
So the latest is that Ignatz is in Rome with him, for a WHOLE WEEK. Now, Rome is awesome, and I do want Ignatz to see it, but um. A week is too long. I was thinking four days max, including transit. But Georg called when I was busy, said “I have to book now, here are the dates,” and I said “uh, okay” even though I had doubts about a whole week, because – and this is key – I didn’t think DrBob would support me in this.
Why didn’t I think that? Well, because I have never been able to count on his support in disagreements with Georg. Mostly he sides with Georg, but even when he does agree with me, he still says that I should confront Georg myself, in flagrant disregard for the Marriage Laws, of which Law Number One is this: you are the intermediary between your spouse and your people. If your husband’s sister is pissing you off with her constant comparisons of your children and hers, your husband – not you – has to tell her to cut it out. That’s just. The way. It is.
So once I found out DrBob actually did agree with me this time, that a week is too long, it was too late, reservations made, money spent, etc. Money, schmoney, you say? Well, a certain husband has to live in London for half the year. He has to sublet a 2-bedroom flat for a rent that is more than our monthly house payments. Plus plane tickets and all kinds of set-up fees and crap, and his new job sort of forgot to pay him for his first month, oopsie! And how did we cover all those initial costs? With a loan from Georg.
And that is how I wound up in this gradually-developing, invisibly bizarre situation where I have less control over where my kid spends his holidays than Mr Annoying Godfather does. Yes, I know, I was stupid. And now I’m worried and missing him and home alone with the Sniglet, whom I love very much, but our relationship is a bit, um, fraught. He’s a tempestuous little guy. And Ignatz is missing out on Halloween, which is a whole nother ball of worms, probably for tomorrow’s post.
You know, I’ve tried to be reasonable and avoid conflict, and still, for reasons I can’t go into here because you’d be reading for months, I wind up with a lot of Georg-related conflict, and I have somehow earned the role of irrational, manipulative shrew. Typical: um, last August, during the fair, there were fireworks one Friday. Ignatz was scheduled to visit Georg that weekend, and I postponed the trip till the next morning so he could see the fireworks. Because he said he wanted to. According to DrBob, I did this because I “hate Georg and I just wanted to reduce the amount of time Ignatz spends with him.” Seriously. This is what I get for trying to be reasonable.
So fuck it. If I stop trying, at least there’s one less thing I have to remember. The only question is, do I make a solemn declaration to Georg: “No More Bullshit, Starting Now!” or do I just start the new policy and let him wonder what the hell is going on?
Song du jour of the day: Dame Tu Fuerza, by Fortuna.
P.S. I think I need to write about Georg more often, because he’s obviously crowding out other, more important thoughts. This post was supposed to be about how Ignatz is seeing the Forum and the Sistine Chapel and St Peter’s and the Piazza di Spagna, but in our phone call, all he wants to talk about is how many stray cats he’s befriended. He is such an awesome kid. Really.