Jeffrey’s family is from the US. Mine is from Mexico.
He has 3 first cousins. I have 45.
His parents have dinner at 5:30. Mine at 9:30 (if they’re lucky).
His family plans trips a year in advance. My parents tossed a coin once to decide between mountains and beach, and drove off for their vacation the next day.
When flying, his parents get to the airport several hours early, to be first in line and ensure seats together. Mine wait to go through security only after “G****, PARTY OF FIVE, YOUR PLANE IS ABOUT TO TAKE OFF” is heard over the intercom. (Then it happened again with their connecting flight. True story.)
But both our families sit at the dinner table together. We speak with our parents almost daily over the phone, and we can spend days upon days hanging out with our siblings. We get surprise care packages in the mail from our moms, and sometimes even frozen homemade food. We have 6 grandparents between the two of us, whom we cherish and enjoy margaritas with several times a year. And whenever possible, we choose spending time with our families to pretty much anything else.
So when Jeffrey’s Papaw decided to turn 80 this year, the fam didn’t hesitate to celebrate together and go BIG with a week at a beach-house in Destin, Florida.
So when it comes to the things that really matter, our families are actually pretty much identical. And that is how we managed to fit right into each others lives and embrace both families as our very own… as if we both came from a place where dinner is served at 7:30 (a happy medium!).