Home, Sweet Home

Or, Going Home: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

I have no problem using "home" interchangeably to refer to both where I live with Paul and Ellie and where my parents live.

Home is definitely St. Louis. But there are some things about my parents' place that still feel like home too. Like the incomparable Indiana Dunes State Park/National Lakeshore. And the atmosphere.

"Home" at Mom and Dad's is where I can act like a lazy bump on a log, hiding my nose in a book for hours if I can find a good spot to do so: quiet and out of the way enough to read in peace, but close enough to keep up with what's going on. In practice, this is a fruitless pursuit. You're either secreted upstairs in your bedroom with the door closed, or pretty soon someone's handing you something to do.

And "home" at Mom & Dad's is where we revert to our old resentments and patterns of interacting.

Paul, Ellie, and I arrived on Friday night, and I was keyed up from the long drive. Unfortunately, everyone else was exhausted and ready for bed. This limited Super Fun Family Time to just Saturday plus Sunday morning.

Saturday night, after dinner, is prime family time. I'm known for pushing board games, so I consciously dialed it back this trip. I am, however, the only firstborn child in the bunch, so I have to take the lead or we spin our wheels endlessly.

I suggested a card game we've all enjoyed. Two family-favorite TV shows we have brought on DVD. A movie of the three they rented for the weekend. And, as always, a board game.

Nobody moved. I brought out a board game we've laughed at before and started rereading the directions. Middle Sister turned on the movie she'd started earlier in the day and people watched the rest of it.

This happened to be the one movie they rented that I was not interested in seeing, and certainly wasn't interested in starting in the middle of.

I stuck it out for a while, as people drifted in and out, snacking, and eventually I gave it up and went to read in another room.

Later, as I was heading up to bed, the movie ended. "I guess we should appease Sarahlynn and play a bored game," Middle Sister said. Gee, thanks.

This is the way it always goes. Middle Sister is not malicious, but she looks after herself first. And everyone goes along with it.

Such a small thing. But the one true family night of our all-too-rare time together was spent watching parts of a movie that only Middle Sister had followed from the beginning.

If I complain, I am petty and just trying to get my own way - even if "my own way" is that we all do something - almost anything! - that we agree upon together.

Best of all, I feel petty and childish and surly about the whole thing, which is so much fun. Flashback.

I love my family. I love spending time with them. They're smart, and funny. We have a lot in common: we have similar politics, we all love NPR, we enjoy (mostly) similar TV shows. But we all know different stuff, so we have great discussions.

But it always seems to come down to me wanting to get everyone together, wanting to do something fun, just plain wanting and needing more.

And no one likes to be in that position.