What a crappity crap crappy day.
A: Daughter's fiancé, 2 months before the big day hears that his mother won't be coming for the wedding. She can't afford it, because apparently she has to help out with problem B. (This is the third time she has announced she's not coming. I don't give a big rat's ass. I have run out of rat's asses to give.) But why stop there?
B: Fiancé's brother, the Best Man, also will not be coming. Because there has been an ugly break up with his girlfriend, who apparently is wallowing in a Vicodin haze, and neglecting their baby. They are busy planning ugly and expensive custody battles instead, and I guess he can't take a weekend off. But wait, there's even more fun-
C: Fiancé's sister will not be coming. It seems that she is pregnant by Mr. Shitheel, who wants nothing to do with her or his future child, so she can't come because she has to stay home and save her money and await the arrival of the baby.
(I'm sorry, but FFS. Can we not be dysfunctional one at a time? Maybe a different month?)
Fiancé is now hurt and sad. Like many men, he handles this by acting like a big surly baby, and suggested to my Adorable but Oversensitive Daughter that maybe they should reschedule. (FFS. Reschedule for when? Is there a predicted date for achieving functional familydom?)
E: First major fight. Daughter makes first weeping trip back to Mom's. Waterworks. More waterworks. Doubt. Fear. Insecurity. Still more waterworks.
F: I keep my mouth shut, except to make soothing Mom noises. If they cancel this thing, I will strangle them both with scalloped pearl trimmed re embroidered Venetian lace. And then beat them with vintage candlesticks. And build an invitation bonfire. Until then, more soothing noises and baking cinnamon rolls for Weepy.
G: I am not good at keeping my mouth shut. It physically hurts. Everybody needs to behave. That's all. Just. Fucking. Behave.