The good old days

Did I mention that I’m spending the weekend with my “original” family at my parent’s summer house? I mean, just my parents and brother.  No girlfriend.  No husband.  Yes, there is baby thrown in the mix, but he can’t talk yet, so he doesn’t really count.

And, apparently the outcome of the weekend so far is that I’m not fun anymore.  Not that funny and really not that fun to be around.  As my brother stated tonight:

All the fun you once had has been drained out of you and transferred to your son.  You’re a vicious hell-cat.

Ouch. I scare my family. I lecture my family members like the village wiseman. I talk to my brother like he’s 5.  I can go on.

On one hand, my family can bite me.  My brother is taking the summer “off” before he starts a job in October.  My mom, g-d bless her, is retired.  I’m not saying I have it tough, BUT, I am working, taking care of a baby and dealing with a husband that works 70+ hours a week. (There’s a reason he’s not here this weekend.)  On the other hand, they might have a point.  But I’m different now – of course I am not as fun as I used to be.  I used to not have responsiblities like raising a child.  I used to not be married.  I used to not be a homeowner.  But now I am all of these, and it’s imprinted a new personality on me like those fake tatoos I used to wear as a child.

I think we all have it in our head that when we get together with our families as adults it’s going to be like the “good old days.”  As in, I’m going to be age 9 again.  Going down the Slip ‘N Slide with my brother in the backyard.  Watching “You Can’t Do That on Television.”  Eating Domino’s pizza and going to bed.

Unfortunately I live in reality.  I can’t just turn on the “on/off” switch to the past when I was young, immature and ran into my parents’ bedroom every time there was a thunderstorm.  When my family’s all together now we don’t get along all the time.  We’re all different people with different priorities and different needs. 

My mom’s never going to clean the pots as well as I think they should be cleaned.  My brother isn’t going to pick up his clothes like I do.  My father will continue to bug me with simple computer problems.  And I’m probably not going to be as fun or funny as I used to be until I figure out how to shoulder the weight of raising a kid, working in an office and paying attention to my husband without totally cracking.

Maybe I’ll never figure it all out, but I have realized that it’s not easy being a “mom” when your family still thinks of you as “their daughter” or “my sister.”  But the truth is, being a “mom” is the only role I’m trying to perfect right now.  And I think it’s working pretty well for the only person that it matters to – my son.  And if that means I’m not funny or fun, then so be it.  

Whew, that felt good.  Alright, I’m signing off now to go short-sheet my brother’s bed. He he.