The softest blanket

I went to a dinner party at my in-laws' last night. I didn't really think about the evening in advance because, A) I had just finished an incredibly stressful week, which I dealt with by cleaning the house like mad all day yesterday, and B) it's always a good time at my in-laws'. What is there to think about?

But I do sometimes find it challenging to be around people all evening. I know that's weird. Sometimes the weight of Doing the Right Daughter-in-Law Thing can make my nerves feel jangled (chatting while dinner is being prepped, making sure the granddaughter gives the appropriate affection to the grandparents and uses good manners, making a toast at dinner, offering to do the dishes).

I can also become worn-out making conversation, even with old friends. The guests were actually friends of JBL's, which is not unusual considering he and his dad have worked together for years. I have known them all as long as I have known JBL. They are practically family. And still....am I asking the right questions? Am I putting my foot in my mouth? Am I talking about myself too much?

Then of course there is the actual parenting thing. Make sure J gets enough attention in the pool, considering her pride over the recent acquisition of swimming skills. Help her into pajamas when she's done swimming. Find her a TV show to watch while her dinner is cooking. Sit with her in the kitchen while she eats (everyone else is down on the patio). Send her out to visit one last time while I make her dessert. Explain to her over and over why she can't stay up later and sit with us while we eat.

Terrible? Hell no - I am aware the evening is brimming with good fortune. Yet...

By the time dinner was over and I had asked JBL 16 times to turn the music down (the patio with its outdoor speakers sits directly below J's bedroom at the in-laws'), I became frustrated. We had chosen to bring J so we didn't have to worry about leaving at a particular time for the babysitter, and so she could visit with her grandparents. However the combination of managing her along with my normal neuroses wore me out.

But then JBL started passing around the iPhone, allowing all the guests to play their favorite songs on the Squeezebox. We heard Paul Westerberg, the Holy Modal Rounders (don't ask), and the Afghan Whigs. Chuqd and I discussed the devil-like qualities of Greg Dulli. The recent loss of Neil Young's steel-guitar player Ben Keith was considered solemnly. Everyone laughed at the concept of doing a jig. Dessert of plum cobbler was served a la mode, and some Guilded The Lily by sipping on Grand Marnier as well. The pool lights shimmered, as did the citronella candles. I tipped my head back to look at the sky through the small opening between the house and surrounding tulip poplars, and saw the most bright and long-lasting shooting star I have ever seen. Suddenly my heart felt full, and I smiled. It felt like God lifted the film of sadness that tends to cover me, just for a time, and I could see how wonderful everything really is. Life.

As we drove home, I drifted in and out of sleep, clutching JBL's hand. And as I woke this morning, I kept the feeling of clarity and simple happiness wrapped around me like the softest blanket, and I hope to rub it against my cheek all day.