Happy Graduation Nephew!
We spent the weekend driving to north central Iowa to wish my eldest nephew good luck on the next phase of his life.
I'm sure many people did that last weekend, and that my story isn't much different than many of theirs, I'm not really that unique.

Saturday: The plan was to leave my house at 9 a.m. to arrive at a decent hour in the afternoon so we could get as much visiting in as possible. (Mom lives in the area, as does Dad (in the summer), Grandma, youngest brother and family, as well as out of town Aunt staying with Grama for a few weeks. None of these people live in the same town, they are all about 10 miles from each other, so logistically we had to allow for travel time to each visit as well.) So, starting the day off on par, I woke up at 10:15. Not wanting to ruin the whole day just becaus of a little over sleeping, I blew it off and woke up the girls, let's just make the best of it, shall we? Throw some clothes in a bag, get them in the car and off we go. First stop, WalMart for something to eat along the way. As much as I know that the place is ruining the American economy, it's still better than burgers at a drive through, and cheaper to feed the three of us for the afternoon trip.
I hadn't heard anything from Mom, Dad, brother, etc. about what any of the plans were for the weekend, but they knew I was coming, so off we went.
My first challenge was when my 22 year old growled and reached into the glove box to change all the CD's in my CD changer. WTH? My car is the ONLY place that my music gets to be played. I like some of the music they bring to my world, but mine is mine, not theirs. I listen to theirs all the time at home, it invades every waking moment at our house. Deep breath, don't slap her, she may hit me back and then the fight would be on at 60mph going down the highway. Make a request that no rap music be inserted into my player and drive on. grrrrrr

Then came Humbolt, 13 year old has a friend there that she made at camp 2 years ago, begin whining begging fest to stop and visit. Ok, who cares, no one is expecting us at a certain hour in the homeland. So, 22 year old and I go for a walk down the metropolis' main drag to try and find a gift for my friend who has a birthday coming up. Cute little specialty shops line the street. All closed on a Saturday at 3 pm. Ok, go stalk the aisles at the Dollar General see what we can see there. Both daughters forgot to bring pajamas with them, so grab some boxer shorts and t-shirts (that I thought 22 year old would buy, HA) 50 dollars later we find our way back to the car and we are off again.

Call Mom, let her know we are on our way and will be taking her out for a belated Mother's Day dinner. Nice, that will be nice. Check into the hotel, go get Momma, head for Clear Lake and some good grub. Find a nice looking restaurant and land. We decided to eat out on the dock, but changed our minds very quickly after sitting there for a few minutes in the wind with the sun sinking into the horizon. Into the bar area we went, and after deciding on what fare we all would dine on, our order was placed. The spin-dip was fantastic, served with warm slices of fresh bread. My pasta alfredo noodles left a lot to be desired, and the add mushrooms I requested for my order (4 total were located in that huge plate!) were a bit scarce, but the chicken was tasty, and the waiter was pleasant and not bad looking. Shovel the leftovers into a box and send them home with Mother to feed her husband for a couple of lunches. 76 bucks later, back on the road again.
Here's where it gets trickey for me, though. Do I talk about the smell of cat box that hits you in the face from the basement when we walk in the front door at my mother's house? Do I tell you about her reading some rant about gratitude for mothers during our brief visit when we got to her home and the tears it caused my 22 year old? Should I touch on the fact that she spewed guilt trip on my girls and I for 25 minutes while we sat on her couch and I watched my kids squirm wanting to get out of there? Better yet, should I tell HER?! Yea, right. I love my Mom, but telling her things like that....well, would you tell YOUR mother?
Get the hell out, get back to the hotel, toss and turn on a very uncomfortable bed and hope for better things tomorrow.

Sunday morning brought us continental breakfast at the motel and a quick visit to Dad's house. He informed me that my brother had flown in from England to see his son graduate from High School. Pretty neat, huh? He flew all day on Saturday, then drove 3 or 4 hours to check into a seedy local motel on Saturday night so he could bang on Daddy's door at 8 a.m. Sunday morning. All this, to be told they had things to do, could he come back later? See, this particular brother didn't call ahead and let anyone know he was coming. We all suspected he might do it, of course, so he, being the obvious drunk in the family, had to live up to his reputation of trying to shock and surprise everyone and put them on the spot to put up with his antics. After all, he came all this way! Being a drunk myself, I understand this behavior, it's still not cool. Kind of nice that Dad has finally figured it out, don't reward the negative.

We opted to go visit my Grama who is going to be 95 in June, and my Aunt who is there with her from Colorado rather than sit through commencment ceremonies. Peachy ladies, lovin' each other and smiling through some pretty tough times. Grama has osteoperosis, and is bent pretty badly, but her smile!! She lights up the whole room when she smiles, and she laughs like there is nothing in the world wrong. The bonus gift of the perp-uncle being there when we arrived didn't even phase me, confronting him last year and letting him know it is now HIS secret what he did to me when I was little was probably the single most freeing thing I have ever done in my life. Watch him squirm, it's about friggin time.

We got to the graduation reception and made the rounds of people there, heartily congradulated my nephew on a job well done, told stories, laughed, had a whee short time. Brother Drunk was there, of course, looking for the surprise and delight on my face. I hugged him, held my breath so I wouldn't get a "contact high" from the reek of alcohol on his breath and moved on. The party was supposed to be about my nephew, not my brother, so that's where I kept my head. It was good to see him alive, dealing with the mess in his mind the best way he knows how, I suppose. I have a hard time feeling sorry for him, I grew up there too, and I don't get the option to show up drunk anymore.

After our fill of cake, I huged as many people as I could find before getting in the car and heading home. I waved to my brother as he headed to his vehicle for his bottle of whatever kind of liquid normal he carries with him these days. Tired, sad, wishing things were different, I was still glad we made the trip. My family may be totally screwed up, but they're mine to love, and hate, and deal with. I'm sure my kids wonder why Mom gets so wierd when these things come up, and I try to explain it to them as best I can. It's just such a long sordid story, and in some twisted way, I suppose I'm trying to teach them about doing the right thing by putting some of my issues aside when there are good things happening that we need to suit up and show up for.

Kids only graduate from High School once, and they notice who isn't there even if we don't think so. Grama isn't going to last forever, bless her sweet heart, and locking myself in the car for nearly 4 hours with my kids isn't the worst punishment in the world. (though they may not think that!)
Next week, maybe I'll get some more of that therapy that I've mentioned. A mental tune up never hurt anyone.