Or more correctly, which family do I belong to? This was the
question I pondered on my long drive home alone. Let me see if can
explain it to you and if it makes any sense I would love some feedback.
I don’t know if this is a question other people ask themselves or not,
or if too much time alone in the car warped my brain.
When I got back from my week long trip to Alaska with my friend, she
got to go straight back into her life with her children, and I got to go
back to my childhood home. My own husband and children were waiting
for me back in Milwaukee, but we’d planned for me to have a few days
with my mom and dad before I made the drive to Wisconsin by myself. I
could have nearly a week if I wanted, seeing friends and family in
Detroit before I would have to go back to work and my normal routine.
During other periods of my life such an opportunity would have seemed
like a godsend, but after a week away from my kids it just left me
unsettled. I stayed about two days and had a very nice time. I had a
fabulous girls’ night out with some of my oldest friends and we laughed
ourselves silly and caught up on important information about each
other’s lives. I also had some wonderful walks with my mom and a quiet
afternoon with my dad playing Scrabble and talking. I love being back
home, but I’d never been away from my children so long and I needed
them. I realized as much as my son can make me nuts with the way he’s
always leaning on me, I deeply missed the feel of his little hand in
mine on our evening walks around the block and I longed to have someone
to scoop up in my arms and nuzzle. I also have just a few more weeks
with my husband before he leaves for Iraq, and I needed to get back to
him. My mom was sad I couldn’t stay a few more days, but she understood
and in the truest form of a good mother she let me go.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more torn about leaving Detroit,
though. I had a physical pang about it as I got into my car. My father
was only recently out of the hospital after major surgery, and he was
doing remarkably well, but he still needed help. My mom is the
strongest person I know, and somehow she can handle taking care of
everything at home and at their business and also manage to find time to
devote to her artwork, but I could see she was stretched thin. I told
her if she needed me I would stay. If it meant keeping my store closed
an extra week or more I could do that, because my dad’s health and my
mom’s sanity were more important. My kids missed me, but they were with
their dad, so it was doable. My mom thought about it briefly, and then
admitted she wanted me to stay, but she didn’t need me to stay. She
thought I needed to go home to my own family.
So which family is mine? I have created a life with the man I love,
and we have three children, and together obviously we are a little
family. My family. But I grew up as one of three children in a family
my parents created together, and when my mom talks about her little
family, I am a member of that family. My old family. But that’s still
my mom’s current family. I feel like I exist in a family overlap–a Venn
diagram of relationships and sometimes I don’t know where my priorities
should lie. Of course I know that it’s all one giant family, but in
reality we function on smaller levels, and I experience confusion on
occasion by what I mean by ‘home.’ Where I grew up is still home, but
where I live now is certainly home, too.
It felt wrong to leave my parents when they could use my help, but it
felt equally wrong to be away from my husband and children. In an
ideal world we would live down the street from my parents and I could do
both things, but my world is not ideal. One of the great gifts of
having children is gaining a more profound understanding of your own
parents, realizing what kinds of sacrifices were involved in your own
upbringing that you couldn’t comprehend until you had to step into the
role of parent yourself. I am forever indebted to my parents. I love
them and I want to give back. But when resources and time are limited,
how much do I dedicate to them before it impacts the new family I’ve
created? My parents would never want me to feel obligated to sacrifice
for them, but that’s what love comes down to. Of course I will find a
way to support and help my parents when they need me, but I can’t help
but think ahead about what I should do down the road when they may need
me more and more.
The point has been particularly driven home to me while watching my
grandma’s situation. The year before it became clear she needed to be
moved to a nursing home was incredibly hard on everyone involved.
Grandma dug in her heels and didn’t want to leave her house even though
she was not capable of living there safely anymore. It was painful to
see her trying to discuss it with her children–her own little
family–when her memory was so bad she didn’t remember starting a kitchen
fire or passing out on more than one occasion. Before she went into
the home I worried every night that she might be lying hurt at the
bottom of the basement stairs in Ohio because she insisted she could
still do laundry. The stress was worse on my mother, who still drives
all the way down to Columbus to visit as often as she can even though
her efforts are almost instantly forgotten once she leaves my
grandmother’s line of sight. But that’s one of the things love
obligates you to do. You do what is right for the people you love
because it is right. You do it even though you would never ask it of
that person in return. I’ve watched how hard it is for my mom to care
for her mother from out of state. I’m wondering what kind of long
drives from Wisconsin to Michigan are in my future.
These were the thoughts that darted around my mind during the very
boring stretches of freeway on the westen side of Michigan, the traffic
jams in Indiana, and the confusing route my GPS sent me on in Illinois
and Wisconsin. I can’t remember such a long span of time without
distraction in ages. The radio was stolen out of our car earlier this
year, and the one we replaced it with is awful. Ian and I just assumed
that all radios came with preset buttons and channel-seek funcions
anymore, but we were wrong. We have a radio with a strange knob and we
can’t find anything. I made desperate stabs at tuning in interesting
music or news with no success and ended up back in my own thoughts about
family and what it means.
Finally when I was just sitting on the freeway (few things are as
aggravating as being parked on a freeway) I realized I was incredibly
homesick and needed to talk to someone. I called home (the one in
Milwaukee) and got Aden. I love her. She was excited to hear my voice
and gave me the rundown of what everyone was up to, from Mona playing
Webkinz on the computer to Quinn sorting checkers, and after a few
minutes I decided I should probably let her go. “No, mama! Don’t hang
up!” I asked if she was sure she didn’t want to go back to playing.
“No! I want to talk to you!” So I told her about all the different
animals I saw in Alaska. After each one I named she’d say “Really!?!?”
When I told her I saw a glacier up close she said, “Really!?!?” and
when I asked her if she knew what a glacier even was she said, “No.” So
I told her all about it. I told her I had a present for her, but
wouldn’t tell her what it was no matter how much she begged. I loved
having her sweet voice with me in the car for a few minutes. It was the
highlight of the seven hour drive, but I eventually convinced her it
was time to let me go because I expected the traffic to start moving
again soon. She said, “Okay. Bye mama.” And I was alone again in my
car.
It’s amazing how much of life is just about going through cycles and
getting to repeat things from different perspectives. I remember being
the little girl on the phone and talking to my mom. Now I get to be the
mom. I hope one day, if it’s what Aden wants, she will make her own
little family. I’d like to think by the time I’m old and Aden’s
worrying about me maybe one of us will have figured out a way to make
some of this easier. And maybe the construction in Indiana will finally
be finished.
So I really appreciate you moving all your old posts over here because I need stuff to read to keep me awake while feeding in the middle of the night! So... Thanks!!!
ReplyDeleteAnyway, what I wanted to say is that I have been pondering this same concept of family lately as I tried (and failed) to explain the concept of "immediate family" to Toby (almost six and very literal). At one point we went with "the people who live in our house" but when we stayed with his cousins after the windstorm he thought that meant they were "immediate family" too. Then I really got stuck trying to explain how mommy and daddy had a different set of family, that we had grown up in, and they were "immediate family" too. I'm sure actually the term immediate family could have different definitions for different people... I've always used it to mean either my parents and brothers OR my husband and kids. anyway, I don't think I ever made it clear for him, probably because it's a complicated concept, as you've so eloquently described here.
Although, we were supposed to be spending Christmas with my first, growing-up "immediate family" on the other side of the state, but a snowstorm in the mountains prevented that (Eastern WA weather has been abnormally dramatic this year!) so instead it will be a quiet little Christmas with my new "immediate family". My disappointment that our plans changed is primarily for my parents whom I know want to see us and share this with us. For me, I can't help but acknowledge that this quiet little time with my "new" immediate family might be what I really prefer most of all!
All that to say, I understand why you wanted to get back to your kids.
Thanks again for the post!
-Lisa
It is an interesting concept, isn't it? And one I don't ever hear people talk about particularly. I think of my kids as mine in a way that I don't think of myself belonging to my mom, which is odd.
DeleteAnyway, thanks for reading the old posts! I did some good writing back at Babble and am glad I pulled it out of the abyss.