fodder.

Sort of.  So remember my ranting about being homesick and missing my family, blah, blah, blah?  Well, my mother, brother, his gf, their daughter and a nephew came to visit for two days, and well, when they left today I was a little sad, but also very glad to get my weekend back.  

Evil isn’t it?  I mean just a couple weeks ago I couldn’t imagine being away from them much longer and was feeling like my insides would collapse.  Ok, so that’s a bit theatrical, but you get the point.  

So, they came to visit, toting presents, stories and well, they were on vacation.  Now, vacation and visiting are two different things in my family.  Visiting is just that, you sit around, you chat, you eat, you do nothing but spend time with the people/person you want to see.  Vacation is where you expect to do something, see something, be somewhere.  I was in visit mode; I suspect they were in vacation mode.

I knew I was in trouble once my mother said, “I don’t know-you’re the host”-this after I asked her what she wanted to do for New Years Eve.  Mind you-I had no plans, low expectations and staying up to watch a ball drop wasn’t on my list of things to accomplish, nor was going anywhere.  Also, I wasn’t prepared to host anything.

Backtrack-I didn’t work NY eve, I spent the morning camped at the clinic because I spent the night before that that morning vomiting and feeling generally like a city cleaning truck had run me over.  So, going out was not something I was interested in.  

My compromise?  I ordered pizza, bought way too much junk food and rented some very terrible movies.  I figured we’d ring in the New Year low key.  Ok, so we really didn’t compromise, I just looked at everyone and asked if they were hungry yet.

It was pretty low key, but also pretty expensive considering I didn’t plan (I wasn’t sure they were actually coming, my family has been saying they’d come visit for 4 months now) and went shopping when hungry.  I think we had a good time, but frankly-I couldn’t really tell.  I was tired, still sick, trying not to be cranky and trying not to lose it every time my nephew spilled more food on the carpet and asked me to watch him do something or asked if I could buy him something. 

Side tangent:  I find I’m having difficulty getting along with poor mannered children.  I’ve realized I’ve never really been around small children and find it sad & confusing that I don’t enjoy being around my nephew.  I thought the last time was a fluke, but this time it was the same.  I feel/felt like a jerk.  Every few minutes I was trying to teach him manners and put parameters on him because he’s like a circus animal running every direction commanding attention and getting into things.  

Maybe it’s the nature of being 5.  I don’t know, I haven’t been around many of them, but I doubt it.  I’ve been around friends children and loved them and found them charming, enlightening and exciting to be around.  

However, with my nephew, I don’t feel that way.  I blame my brother and his wife for the kid’s behavior-it must be hard to be a content secure kid when your dad runs off and your mother couldn’t care less where you are and lets you eat so much candy half your teeth have rotted from your head.  Seriously, heard in our place this morning, “this cereal doesn’t taste like sugar!”  (Michael later found he had been sneaking peanut butter cups from the fridge and hiding the wrappers in the baby’s room, fortunately he helped him clean it up.) 

I’m not sure if it’s normal to feel this way about him.  I’ve always considered myself someone who loved kids.  I’ve always thought of kids as innocent and worthy of attention & praise.  However, when I’m with my nephew I feel like I’m corralling a wild horse & I can’t wait to get away from him.  Yet, there’s this lingering nagging idea that I have about being able to enjoy him because a) he’s family and b) he is after all-just a kid.

Seeing him this time-I wanted to be kind but firm.  Even then I still got into some tiffs with my mom about some behavior she’s encouraging out of what she reports is guilt because, no one buys him anything or spends any time with him.  That annoyed me more when she said that.  Then my other brother jumped in to report my nephew’s dad is the sort who will buy beer before he buys anything for his kids.  My response was: he doesn’t deserve children and he shouldn’t be allowed around them.  The latter isn’t hard to do right now as he’s in another state and doesn’t call or support his kids as far as I know.  In the midst of one discussion-my mother trying to break the tension reported I would see things “differently” when it was my kid. 

Other note: I don’t agree with placating a kid, I believe that kids need structure and love.  Love isn’t about buying kids things & letting them eat and do whatever they want.

So, there was some tension in the visit.  Me being so close to hatching and my family’s needs didn’t quite gel the way we normally do.  However, I enjoyed the visit.  I was happy my mom came.  I loved seeing my niece who is now walking and chattering around.  I enjoyed talking with my sister in law about her interests in animals and moving off the reservation because, “you can’t sit at home just because you’re a teen mom.”  I seriously wanted to high five her when she said that.  My mom and I got some of Cheeto’s clothes sorted, chatted and just spent time together.  But, she left today-her phone kept ringing, my man-children brothers back home were hungry.  Ironically, that was enough for her to pack up and leave. I think she came-did what she needed to do for her and for me and she left.  

Of note, Cheeto got his first Pendleton.  It’s very beautiful.  I suspect it was my dad’s doing.  Leave it to my dad to make sure the kid has his own blanket before he’s born.  And, my mom brought my favorites-Acoma bread, tamales and a big tin of pinons.  She’s cooked them for me this morning before she left. 

So, despite my hormonal flux and frustrations/thoughts about kids, the visit was good.  It’s nice to have family.  Family is important, even if they do drive you nuts sometimes.

 

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