Meeting the Mum

In less than a week, my parents and brother are coming to Japan to visit me during our summer holiday. Words cannot express how excited I am - it will be the first time I've seen them since they bid me goodbye at the airport last January. I have reorganized my apartment-tini so that it will look super kawaii and am busily grilling my students for recs on where to take them (not that I don't have any ideas of my own after 7 months, but I'm always on the lookout for something new and cool). When my students and fellow staff members ask if I have any plans for the summer holiday, I am quick to tell them that my family is coming - my family is coming!

And yet, despite the glee, I feel twinges of panic. Said twinges swell up in tiny bubbles, cutting through my euphoria, threatening to burst when I think of the fact that not only are my folks coming to town next week, but so are my boyfriend's mother and brother. Thus, for the first time ever in my life, I will be meeting the mom. Or meeting the mum, rather - my boyfriend is from Ireland.

I met my boyfriend on my second day in Japan. He was my tall, adorable, unintelligible downstairs neighbor and we became fast friends. Within the next couple of months, romance bloomed and we are now about to hit the 5-month mark. For some reason, we are still in the 'honeymoon phase' of things and things are quite, quite excellent. This is my second 'serious' relationship - my first was quite some years ago, in college, and as my ex is Indian, he was careful to keep me as far away from his parents as possible. To be sure, I spent quite a bit of time with his very cool siblings, cousins and friends but, as he explained to me, Indian parents and children keep things such as relationships private unless a wedding is imminent. In the years between my ex and my current boyfriend, there were no relationships beyond flings - which is how I have gotten to the age of 27 without ever having met the parents.

27 and no parents met! Some might think this a most glorious state of being - from many accounts, parents can often upset a happy couple with prying, strict moral values, mewling about grand children/marriage and all around personality conflicts. I used to joke with my ex that I didn't mind never having met his parents - "Who needs the stress?" I would tease - even if I really longed to meet the people responsible for the quirky, grumpy Anish and was secretly hurt that, the one time he took me to his home town, he craned his neck at every intersection to make sure no one his parents knew saw us together. After we broke up during my Senior year of college, knowing that no parents would despise me was a comfort, even if I did worry about what his brother and sister and friends thought. For five years there were no boyfriends or parents in sight. And now, unexpectedly, my time has come.

Colm assures me that I have nothing to worry about. His mum isn't like crazy American moms, don't I know, like? She doesn't have anything out for her darling b'hoy's girlfriend. I'm sure he's right - the photos he's showed me reveal a darling looking woman whose gentle smile seems incapable of morphing into an anti-American girlfriend sneer. And quite honestly, I am really excited to meet Colm's mum and little brother. From what he's told me, they sound delightful and, of course, I want to meet anyone connected with him. I have a quiet dream of telling Ms. O'Doyle that she raised her son right and look forward to catching similar twinkles in their eyes over the cuppas of Barry's tea we might share in his apartment. Yet, I can't help but worry. Will she find my American way flat and uncharming? Will she look at my pimply skin and be unimpressed? Will she secretly think I am stocky or that I look strange next to her 6 foot tall son? Will she, like many others, be annoyed by my less-than-gentle world view and sarcasm? Most of all, will she think I am an aging woman ruthlessly enjoying a b'hoy toy? Neither Colm or I have mentioned to our parents that we're four years apart in age - with me his senior but I'm sure both sets of relatives will figure it out at some point during their visits. Not that it's something either of us are ashamed of - especially not Colm. For my part, I do worry about how we will be perceived, and any issues the age difference could stir up later on. But that's another story.

Tonight, I chatted with my brother over IM. In the past 11 years, my brother has been in four serious relationships and has successfully become part of his girlfriends' families each time. I asked him, "Diego? What are your best tips for meeting the mom?"

"Don't you mean 'the mum'? She's Irish, isn't she?"

"My bad."

"You want tips?"

"Yes," I tope, adding, "Colm isn't nervous at all about meeting you, ma, or dad. I really envy his calm."

"You shouldn't be nervous, either." said Diego. "You want tips? S***, just don't say anything stupid."

"That helps," I told my eternally charming brother.

"Ha ha, just kidding." he said. "Just talk like you'd normally talk. And smile. And act like you actually care about whatever stupid s*** they're talking about. Smile and nod."

"Well, I do care what Ms. O'Doyle has to say," I typed, slightly wounded.

"And you can knock off that kiss-a** act," Diego said.

Talk like I normally talk ... what kind of advice is that? Talking the way I normally talk has done nothing but get me in trouble ever since Catholic school. Smile and nod? She'll think I'm a ventriloquist's dummy! And then another thought troubles me even further: at 27, am I really still so insecure? I tell myself it's only because it's my first time. Everyone knows about the first time!

In the past, my friends have met their significant others' parents and fretted. "What will I wear? Will my boyfriend like my crazy family?" they asked me.

"Of course he will!" I always said. "And they'll all love you, too! How could they not!" Because I love my friends, I couldn't imagine how I could be wrong about this. How could they - wonderful, smart, beautiful - worry about what parents would think of them? Similarly, I can't imagine that my parents wouldn't like Colm. He's handsome, quiet, intelligent, and respectful. He has a good job, loves classical music and eats everything set in front of him (a big plus in my Italian parents' book). Already, my father has shown more interest in him than he ever showed in Anish and once my mother hears Colm talking in that seductive, Irish purr of his I imagine I'll have to pry her off of him.

I just wish I had the same calm about myself.

What will I wear, come to think of it? Something tells me that my fishnet stockings and red leather basque are the wrong choice.

I put the question to you. How did you win over your men's moms?