The Rumpus: Part 1

A tale of seven Somervilles, five spouses, five kids, and a kitten.

This past summer, my five siblings and I spent five days in Lake Cowichan, BC, celebrating my mom's 70th birthday with our assorted spouses and kids.

Looking back, the fact that we made it there at all is a minor miracle.

Getting my family organized is like trying to herd an unruly gang of feral cats, all of whom are wildly opinionated yet utterly incapable of making decisions in a timely manner.

If you email my siblings asking whether they prefer Option 1 or Option 2 for a thing we’re all involved in, you will hear nothing but crickets.

But, if you send an update a week later letting them know that you’ve gone ahead and picked Option 1, suddenly your inbox will be dinging wildly with multiple votes for Option 2, one person questioning why we’re doing any Options in the first place, and someone else kindly informing you that they’ve just now done their own research and found Option 3, which is clearly superior, and was there a reason you didn't just choose that one in the first place, you idiot?

All of our family get-togethers require planning almost a year in advance. We're talking multiple spreadsheets, dozens of “reply all” emails, and months of group texts to answer questions about information already provided in the emails.

As the eldest daughter, I’m usually front and center in the planning siege, but this year, my youngest sister, Mawney, took the reins (and, I think, swiftly regretted it).

It started encouragingly enough. Mawney sent an email to all of us and our spouses and asked who would be available to attend the celebration. Then, with the information she received from those responses, she booked a suitable rental house and figured the hard part was done.

Narrator: The hard part was not done. The hard part was, in fact, just beginning.