I Boycotted Our First Family Meeting

doll meetingI was kind of shocked when my fiance suggested we needed a ”family meeting.”

My first thought was, ”A what? Are you speaking English?” My second was, ”I would rather eat an entire bucket of KFC and spend the night puking.”

He asked for this ”family meeting” after two things happened in our blended family household. The first was that my daughter had a sleepover and she and her 9 year-old friend decided it would be fun to trap, with duct tape, her stepsisters in their bedroom. Of course, because it was tape, they could easily get out, but they did NOT appreciate that my daughter and her friend had taped them in their room, and were especially not impressed with the sign they also wrote that said, ”You ARE trapped.”

The second incident was when one of my stepdaughters had one of her friends sleepover and when my stepdaughter’s friend said “Hi” to my daughter, who was watching television when she walked in, my daughter ignored her. So my stepdaughter thought my daughter was being really rude. For days, they didn’t talk to each other, which is when I heard the words from my fiance’s mouth, ”Family meeting.”

Over what, I thought? Nine-year-old girls who have sleepovers do silly things, and aren’t sisters kind of supposed to do that sort of thing to each other?


As for my daughter not saying “hi” to her 14 year-old stepsister’s friend, she wasn’t being rude, not intentionally. When my daughter is watching her favorite show, literally, a fucking giraffe could walk into the room and she wouldn’t notice.


She didn’t even notice that someone was talking to her is my point. She was just in la-la television land.

I do have other issues with the idea of ”family meetings,” the first being what the hell does one wear? I assumed this ”family meeting” was to take place at the kitchen table. But a meeting is a meeting and I like to look presentable for any kind of meeting and accessorize. For this ”family meeting” which I had no interest in being part of, I did, in my mind, pick out a white sundress with an amazing gold necklace by House of Harlow. Too bad I was never going to wear this outfit.

I point blank refused to be part of a ”family meeting.” The first and foremost reason being that, in all honesty, it’s completely or almost impossible, to not side with your biological child in a blended family, unless it’s over something super serious. When my stepdaughter came up to my room to tell me what my daughter had done that night during her sleepover, I did step in and told my stepdaughter, ”Tell my daughter to come here right NOW! I’ll talk to her.” My daughter came up and I said, ”Do not bug them again. Also you spelled ”˜trapped’ wrong on your note. Love you!” I was more concerned, actually about the duct tape ruining the paint on the wall.

I did still tell my daughter later that she should have said “hi,” but on the other end, I couldn’t really understand why a 14-year-old would care so much that a 9-year-old didn’t say “hi.”

Listen, if my daughter sucker punched one of her stepsisters for no reason, there’s no way in hell I’d let her get away with it. She would be punished. Just like I sided with my daughter and pretty much said to my fiance that I had dealt with it and it was all so silly, my fiance sided with his daughters who were still mad.

”How would you feel if someone taped your bedroom door shut?” he asked me.

”I’d fucking love it! Go ahead!” was my answer.

I SO did not want to sit down at a kitchen table (House of Harlow necklace or not) while my fiance’s two daughters ganged up on mine, which is for sure what would’ve happened at this ”family meeting,” because his daughters are very close and have each other’s back plus their father’s. My daughter has only my back. Plus, how could I possibly sit there, without bursting into laughter, if two of his daughters started complaining that they were taped in their room for a whole nine seconds?


I think ”family meetings” should be saved for things like, ”Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce,” or, ”Dad got a job in Alaska and we’re moving next week,” or, ”I’m gay.” You know, life-altering occurrences.

The girls, on their own, eventually made up.

”You were rude!” my stepdaughters told my daughter.

”You have no sense of humor!” my daughter told them.

”You wanna go for ice cream?” said one stepdaughter.

”Okay!” my daughter answered.

And all was good again, as if nothing ever happened. See? No need for any ”family meeting.”  However, the one thing I would have loved to do, if this ”family meeting” had taken place, was to sit at the head of the table with a salad spoon and act like a judge. Plead your case! And then I would have gotten to say, ”NOT GUILTY BY REASON OF INSANITY.” I’ve always wanted to say that.

(photo:  makingstuffwithlove)

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