As I write this, my "to-do" list is longer than my arm. I should be doing laundry, packing, cleaning up the house, making a side dish for tomorrow's picnic, writing instructions for the house-sitter, etc. In 36 hours, the Renovators are going on vacation. This is good, right? In the long run, yes, it is good. In the short-term? Let's just say I need some strong drinks and a good meditation podcast to get me through.
For the past two years, we have vacationed with my family. My parents are very generous folk who pay for much of the vacation, enabling Remodel Man and I to take Builder Boy on vacation. It is a blast to watch Builder Boy navigate the sand and waves, build sandcastles, and live in an apartment away from home. We are making memories. We are getting awesome pictures. We are bonding with my family.
Oh, the bonding that goes on. It seems that within 10 minutes of arriving at the condo that we stay in (all of us...together...for seven days...), my family has reverted back to our original family roles...my sister and my father constantly fight-him to prove he is right, her to antagonize, my mother tries to take care of everything and mediate as best she can, and me? Ever the Libra, I, too, attempt to balance the situation, occasionally fight for myself, get sick to my stomach, and vow never to do this again. Builder Boy and Remodel Man are just innocent bystanders. Poor things.
It frustrates me that we cannot break free from these rules...that we must be crabby and inflexible instead of just living in the moment and going with the flow. But my family is not a "go with the flow" kind of family. Oh, individually, we think we are (we're totally not, not one of us), but collectively, we're not and we all know it.
My goal this year was to let the others fight and just go with what they want. Hey, I'm at the beach with no cares (that I can do anything about while there), so I'll just go with it. About a week ago, I said my peace-as long as Builder Boy was able to ride the Pirate ship and go to the Old West town and I got to eat one meal at a favorite restaurant, the rest was up to them to fight about. I'm not doing it. I won't do it. I can't do it.
Yet...we haven't even left yet and already I am being made to feel like a twelve year old all over again. Listening to the disapproving voice of my father, disappointed in something that hasn't even happened yet. Baiting me (and failing) into an argument over our departure time (cause ya know, it's no fun unless you caravan...). After getting off of the phone and using some choice expletives, I reminded myself that I am not, in fact, twelve. I am an adult, with a family and house to manage, three jobs to work, and two Masters degrees behind me. Clearly, I am capable and competent. Right? Cause if not, I'm going to have to grow me some big old bangs for my hair, buy some penny loafers and turtlenecks with a fake pearl necklace, and find my Wham! album. (yes, and I mean album).
Vacations are great, aren't they?
________________________________________________________________________________________
I've asked Black Belt Mama to guest post for me while I am away. If you don't already read her, you're in for a real treat. Her house just sold on Tuesday and she has to be out of her house and into her parents' house by August 1st because her new house won't be done until October. Plenty of great material there! Enjoy!