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When I met my future husband's family, I was so nervous. It was my first time meeting the parents of someone I was dating. What if they hated me? What if I hated them? What if it was really awkward and everyone wished I wasn't there? And what if it ruined things between me and him? I knew he was really close to his family, so if this didn't go well, there's a good chance we could be toast. So I put on my best face and was my sweet and charming "performance" self.
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When I was in college, I was pretty confident in lots of things. I had the certainty that comes from never living one day out in the real world. Staring out at that world from my dorm room window, I thought I had a decent idea of how my life was going to turn out. I was going to travel, have a career as a teacher, get married, live someplace fabulous and gorgeous, and have a bunch of kids--four girls, to be exact. The details, like the names of the children, I was willing to negotiate on (somewhat). But I was pretty settled on the general plan. It was happening.
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