A Foreigner….in our house.
Two or three weeks back Number 1 Son asked us out for breakfast. Or brunch at 10.30 AM. We both would have died of starvation if we had waited that long…yet he thinks its normal! He wanted a ride to the airport…!!!
We had hardly sat down and he said to MGW that he had some news…with a big broad grin on his dial. MGW replied, ‘Does it have something to do with a girl?’ MGW’s comment received a positive reply. And I nearly choked on my coffee. Seemed he had been out gallivanting around, escorting his new-found friend around some of the sights of Geelong and its environs since early May. And he waited nearly two months. Two Months, before letting us in on his secret.
He had told Number 2…and PDIL has since confessed to having over heard the conversation. Yeah right! She going to make one helluva mother…kids won’t be able to get away with anything.
He went on to tell us her name, what her job was and so on, finally trying to get it out unnoticed that she is a foreigner. I exclaimed, ‘A what?’ It didn’t seem to matter to him that she was a foreigner. Kids! We managed to elicit that they were talking via Facebook. We asked him to spell her name…clearly, so we could do a bit of stalking. Took him to the airport, dumped him at the drop off gate under the guise of high parking fees, and planted the foot down to get home and see what we could find out about this foreigner in his life. Maybe even our lives!!
Thank goodness for Facebook…MGW did all the stalking…I just gave directions. And yes we were delighted with the few photos available to us. Bloody foreigners don’t want you to know anything. Do they?
We had asked was there a chance that we might meet her and ask her intentions, pedigree, was she wealthy, have her own teeth and the like. He wasn’t very forthcoming with an answer. I don’t know why!
However, about a week later we received a message (FB) to see if we would be available for an ‘outing’ on Sunday July 24. That outing turned out to be Ten Pin Bowling. I am not going to go into all my aching joints in my lower extremities, or the lack of strength in my wrist, fingers and hand as I meander through my sixth decade.
So, we cleared our Sunday calendar (cut the afternoon nap in half) and met at the bowling alley at the appointed time, where we were introduced to PDIL Number 2, who is Number 1 Son’s Girlfriend.
For those who have not read my muses on this subject before, PDIL means Potential Daughter in Law, or, at this stage, Number One Son’s girlfriend. Prior to our meet and greet we were a bit concerned. If Number 1 Son says there’s a great movie we all know to stay home the week it is on. His likes and dislikes do not always match ours. In fact they are nearly always the exact opposite. Sometimes this has flowed through to other life areas, also. For instance he loves soccer. That round ball game. I feel a complete failure.
However we could not be more delighted with our newest PDIL. She is pretty, bright, chatty and friendly. Ticks all the boxes.
For a foreigner she is easy to understand. She has been out here long enough to talk like an Aussie. Well almost. This week she was heading home to see her family and friends for a few days. All the way to New Zealand. And if it came to pass….I would be very happy indeed. I would have two daughters without the hassle of raising them!
This story was written about six years ago.
First Date-Part 1/4
Well I never thought it would come, but when it did it barrelled down like a landslide. To wake on Saturday morning with not a worry in the world only to be told a few minutes later that one’s eldest son is going to church on Sunday night with friends and has asked “Jo” if she would like to come.
Dad! Kept in the dark, again!
The garden provided me with a source with which to stir number one son. For the rest of the day – at least when number one son was around – the talk was only of the gardening which had to be done on Sunday afternoon AFTER we arrived home from a nephew’s first communion celebrations.
I ‘figured’ that around two to two and a half hours should see the job – for which there were very limited supplies – completed. Outdoors lights, halogen lights given as presents and anything else which came to mind all supported my argument that the gardening had to be completed tomorrow (Sunday) night before dark.
Not one bite! Was I losing my touch?
First Date-Part 2/4
The morning of the night arrived. One more try. It worked. ‘Ahhh! How long will the gardening take?’ a sleepy eyed number one son mumbled! The bait had been cast. And the Neanderthal teenage male was hungry, at last. I still had my edge!
‘Ah, I have to go to church tonight’ and, ‘That’s not the best part!’, I’m told, by which time I could not contain my laughter.
Around five thirty, half an hour before ‘Dad’ was to arrive with his darling daughter, to be transferred to the care of our darling son, M-G-W asked ‘Have you told him to open (and close) the car door for Jo?’ I mean, how come I won the job? I have never been consulted on any other matter. And with hormones in full flight why was he going to take any notice of me tonight? I dragged myself out of my comfy chair and wandered into this room where he was calming his nerves playing soccer on his computer.
No-one asked about my nerves! The thought of a pretty girl being taken care of by my male chauvinist son was tearing at my gut. He could not appreciate the beauty and gentleness of this girl. Mind you I had only seen her on one or two occasions but I truly feared for her ‘health and wellbeing’ keeping company with my son. Cavemen are not known for their appreciation of the fairer sex.
Part 3 – continued from parts 1 & 2
With a deep breath I entered the cave and began relaying the message. This got me wound up. Wow! Was I on a roll? Not only opening and closing doors but general manners were addressed. I explained that the grunt was no longer a suitable form of communication. Young ladies, particularly those who you may be inviting out because you appreciated their company, versus assisting a classmate to a class function, would expect a higher level of literacy skills (both written and vocabulary) than the caveman language which had emanated from deep within our son for the previous five years.
To lighten any tension I told him that although I had managed to avoid the birds and the bees talk, but this was the ‘Advanced Birds and the Bees’ version of that talk. So take heed.
As I left his room I noticed dogs galloping across the backyard, a sure sign of visitors or slow moving locals stretching their legs in the evening air. Even though I hollered that it looked like visitors had arrived it was yours truly who opened the front door to greet Jo and her mother. Eventually, in a slow moving shuffle and dressed in his best blue denims, Neanderthal man entered the room. After some brief small talk and re-enforcing the safe driving lecture – yes in front of everyone – and telling him it was bad enough if he wrapped himself around a tree, but to wrap Jo around a tree was not pardonable. To which Jo added ‘…if you wrap me around a tree I’ll kill you…’ Another sure sign that God exists.
‘Mum’ suggested that they would be home by 9.30 and dad would come over to collect Jo. ‘Come for coffee’ I suggested. And so around nine we began to listen for Jo’s dad when suddenly there was a thump on the back door and a muffled yell above the television. Nothing like dragging the girl friend around the back, in the dark and thumping the back door to gain entry to the cave. Jo has got a lot of work in front of her if she sticks around.
Coffee produced some interesting information – at least I thought so. Jo’s dad works with wool. We both know my school mates from my Boarding School days and finally, he knows the husband of my first cousin. So there was a lot to talk about. I’m told that there were two pairs of young eyes glancing at each other and looking quite bored.
When queried about how the night went, the reply was ‘….. Good, good, …we didn’t pash or anything…’. At 1.00 AM his lordship was still awake – not to mention that his lordship’s father was not having a good night either. And it is all set for next Sunday night.
Oh Well! She’s nice. He’s nice. And taking a girl to church is certainly not usual. But, then again I have always said our son was a little on the weird side of normal!
It could only be the celibate who told me that “… it gets better after the first six weeks ….” Their heads must have had their placed firmly in the sand, or elsewhere.