When it comes right down to it, my blog is really about my family. Because my life is about my family. My life is family-based in a way that most of us only see it sitcoms based on 1950s housewives.
And I'm cool with that.
In fact, I very much love my life. And I think it is quite plain to see that I love my family. Or at least it is plain to see that I love my family of choice. My family of origin, however...oy. They're a handful.
My mother called me a few weeks ago and asked me to invite my father for a visit. She said that he was going through grandkid withdrawals. And since this is my mother we're talking about, we had to have a top-secret plan in place to fool him into thinking that it was my daughter's idea and that my husband and I were paying for the whole thing. Meanwhile, my mother sent me a money order from her secret stash of cash.
My family is like the CIA. Except that if it were my father's job to hunt Bin Laden, he would have been nailed up to the door of the White House by now.
So my father arrives on Thursday afternoon, and leaves on the 30th. I may not survive the week. I certainly won't be blogging much, anyway. He's very high maintenance.
Between having my father visit, which inevitably leads to lots of talk of my nephews, and the many, many times that I've enjoyed reading about your nieces and nephews, I have my brats--I MEAN--nephews on the brain.
My husband and I were the first ones in this generation of both of our families to have children. That means that I was a mom before I was ever an auntie. I really think I missed out. Once you're a mom, you're always a mom. I can't be the fun, crazy aunt who lets the kids away with stuff, because my own kids are always part of the mix.
And unfortunately, my sister-in-law is a bitch. Woops. Did I say bitch? I meant that she's a modern, independent woman, which means that she ignores her kids and treats my brother like crap.
And even more unfortunately, my brother lets her treat him like crap, and the children are little monsters.
And it gets even more unfortunate still, because my mother, with the help of my father, takes care of these kids during the day.
My mother once said to me about my sister-in-law, 'I love her but..."
And I interrupted to ask, "Do you really love her, Mom? I mean, really."
My mother admitted that she didn't love her at all. In fact, she doesn't even like her very much. She tolerates her for my brother's sake.
I find myself feeling the same way about my nephews. Isn't that awful? They're just children. But, for one, I don't really know them. And for two, what I do know of them is mean, nasty, and downright disrespectful.
Two of them are twins, and they gang up on smaller kids to beat up and torture them. And I've never even met the one-year-old.
There will always be a part of me that regrets not knowing my nephews better. But there will always be a much bigger part of me that regrets that I didn't have a better relationship with my brother. Maybe if we were closer, he would have had more self-confidence and wouldn't have married such a bitch. Woops. I said it again. I meant, well, I meant bitch.
Take care of your brothers, girls. We're the only women who will.
So, I guess what I'm really thinking here is that as much as my family drives me insane, I really do love them very much. I worry about my parents. I feel bad for my brother. And the rest of them, I don't really think much about at all.
The word family can mean many, many things. One of the best gifts I've been given is the ability to develop family on my own. Whether it be my own husband and kids, my military family, or even my blogger kin. I take love for what it's worth.
*****
And speaking of love, go shower Mark with as much love as you can. It's his *ahem* 39th birthday today. Happy birthday, Unka Mawk!
And while you're at it, BoBo could use a few squirts too. He doesn't seem to be divulging his age. Happy birthday, Sweetheart!
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