(but hopefully no buckets were involved.)
I know you have heard this before, but my family is absolutely insane.
In the best...absolute best...possible way.
Only two days into our reunion, Brett had to hit the road for travel, so I naturally decided to stay the week with my family because I am unnaturally afraid of zombies, break-ins and child ghosts...in that order. My family is the perfect clan to disappear into when you are feeling really unsettled and shaken up. Mainly because they, in normal form, are bat shit crazy.
Brett dropped me off and stayed for a BBQ, and I have to admit my eyes were trained on him for the better part of the afternoon. He was just raised in such a quiet and...normal family, and even after 7 years together I sort of stress out when my mutual worlds collide. He handled himself expertly well, however. He only raised his eyebrow at me a few times, expressed quick and (to his credit, mild,) shock when I got into a heated, innocent, and VERY VOCAL debate with my mother, and he played with my nephews so hard they basically forgot who I was. Which kind of made me feel like the last kid picked for the team, but whatever. It was an amazing afternoon. I even fed my baby nephew his first bite of goat cheese. Which he promptly threw up. BUT STILL. MEMORIES.
This week enables me to be something more than a wife- something that I was before the aisle walk and the "I Do's" and the arguments over who squeezed the toothpaste in the middle: A sister. An aunt. A daughter.
I have two gorgeous nephews in Ohio, and my sister Ashley, ( their mother,) is the exact opposite of me, and that is NOT A BAD THING AT ALL. Case in point: my entire family was sitting on the deck, eating, drinking, laughing, and swimming, and my mom came up with the GRAND IDEA to give baby Liam (1 and a half years old,) his own bucket to play with. Full of water. I sat there and wrung my hands as I watched him splash around, picturing every single worse case scenario ever and sweating it out before it could even happen. AND THEN IT HAPPENED. One second. One tragic, quick second, and Liam went top heavy into the bucket, face submerged...and his little body couldn't pull himself up.
I was a nanny for so long. I'd even say a decorated nanny. People actually wanted to hire me for their kids, and even competed a little bit. (Sorry. I can't be humble right now, it is proving a point you will soon realize,) SO, the fact my gorgeous nephew suddenly went belly up in a FLIPPEN' BUCKET in front of me, and all I could do was freeze in silent horror...it kind of made me feel like less of a person all together. I couldn't move. I screamed, frozen.
And then my sister scooped him up, patted him hard on the back a few times, and all normalcy was restored.
My sister (Ashley) and I fight like cats and dogs, and- (being the older sister,) I naturally know what is best for her, her kids, and everything else in her world- ALL OF THE TIME. So, seeing her react and be such a kick ass mommy...it just made me feel like maybe I don't always know all of the answers. Maybe I think I know what is best for me, and for everyone, but...maybe I don't.
Anyway, all I know is that I have my family for one week...and I don't know anything at all. I know I am a fun aunt...I catch fireflies, I jump in pools fully clothed, I allow sweets on the sly and I know every Disney song. I know my family is flawed, but gorgeous. They live large and loud and full- we fight, cry, rage, love...and there is nothing that can contain or hold us back. My sister has raised 2 boys that cuddle into my bed in the morning, forgive my lack of knowledge on all things Sponge Bob, adore their mother and don't mind when I don't mind when they are drowning.
I'm pretty lucky. And pretty loved. And pretty ok with this new phase of life.
Just no buckets of water. Like, ever.