Really?

My family's crazy.

The good crazy. The kind of crazy that makes me laugh until my cheeks hurt at family gatherings. The kind of crazy that makes spontaneous post-dinner dance parties (complete with conga lines through the living room) a relatively normal occurrence. The kind of crazy that can only come from unconditional love (and an Argentinian background). I'm proud and appreciative. But some days (Sunday) certain loved ones (Mom) go too far.

I rolled the dice and invited a guy I've been dating casually for the last several weeks to lunch with the family. My mom was visiting from Florida. My sister just moved to the city. My brother and his wife (brand new parents) were willing to leave their apartment for the first time in weeks. Despite the relative newness of my "relationship" with (lets call him) Bob I felt comfortable saying yes to my mom's request to meet him. Like I said, I'm usually pretty proud of my nutty family. Their antics are always entertaining, and I knew Bob could handle it.

We met for lunch at Perry St. in the West Village, a Jean Georges restaurant that takes itself a nudge too seriously but the food is fantastic. I ordered a steak. Since I started working at a 3-star restaurant and at least pretending to be a part of New York's City's foodie culture, I've adjusted some of my ordering habits. The chef I work with taught me that a good steak should be enjoyed medium rare so that's how I ordered it. And that's how it came, pink and juicy. We were all ready to dig in, family plus Bob.

My always-opinionated mother took one look and proclaimed in her extra loud accented English...

"Ju know, Vanessa, ju really shouldn't eat it so rare. Remember a couple weeks ago you had bad diarrhea."

Just like that, she dropped the d word. She screamed the d word.

The table erupted in laughter. I dropped my fork, turned red and melted into the back of Bob's chair. Really, Mom? Really?

She wasn't done.

"I'm just saying, ju should be careful because..."
"Mom, stop."
"You eat these things and your stomach is sensitive and..."
"Mom, please."
"I'm just saying, it can make ju sick."

My sister changed the subject. I regained normal coloring in my face a few minutes later. Bob obviously didn't care (though I'm sure some of the mystique of our new romance got flushed that afternoon).

I was mortified and I realize I'm now letting cyber space laugh at me. But some things just have to be blogged.

Like I said, the Garcia's are crazy.