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Another Labor Day, another Summer gone.

Seriously, where did the time go? I sound like the 'rents.

Last weekend we went to a MSU game -- barely won -- and a Tigers game -- big L. Husband's family was in town and after too much razzing, I don't think the boyfriend will ever return.

Ahhh, meeting the in-laws (the entire clan, mind you) is quite overwhelming. My first visit with his family was interesting to say the least. Husband didn't tell me it was a "jeans and beer" kind of engagement and I wore a skirt. They must have thought I was out of control. I met his 2.5-year-old cousin and she hated me because she thought Husband was her boyfriend. And then there was his brother. Within a hour or so of meeting me, he called me a name. Not a nice name. We were playing euchre and he didn't like my strategy. Of course now, almost seven years later everything is different... Although Husband's brother still can be a little hardcore playing games.

I should have remembered all these stories to make him feel better. When they had him cornered and demanded to know when he was going to propose to Husband's sister, I should have shouted out in sympathy. "Hey, Buddy! It will be OK!"

But no, not me. Instead, I joined in. As a legal member of the family I technically had a right to the teasing. I reminded him how wonderful Auntie is and gently let him know she could do better. OK, so not so gently. I just said: "You know, she could do better." It was a joke ... Still better than when Husband asked him when he was going to make her an honest women in front of a bunch of older relatives, right?!

Yup, the pseudo-Uncle will definitely never return. (See, he's not technically Jack's uncle because he hasn't married Husband's sister. Catchy name, eh? Not sure which one of us morons made that one up.)

The thing is they brought Jackie a toy: a mini professional soccer ball. You'd think we'd be nicer. Of course, he knows Husband hates soccer. So that's a little sassy too. Right? And he calls Husband "Bag of Donuts" so that's pretty smartarse... wouldn't you say?

The truth is, I do feel bad -- I am sure he'd be glad to know I talked about it here. Good thing the pair doesn't read this blog. I may just get away with it again.

P.S. Jack will never go to another football game until he is at least 12 years old. He was the worst monster I have seen. And his diaper leaked all over my leg. He wasn't impressed in the "football Spartan" game or the band. He and I left during the halftime show. Someday he'll regret it.