Sunday, December 7, 2008

Oh the irony...

So, I can't sleep. That's really not that much new or really astounding. I frequently can't sleep. At times, well at a lot of times, it is due to the snoring that consumes my home. That's going on tonight, but that is not the reason. In fact, I'm not sure of the reason. I mean, I should be tired. Hell, I am tired. But, I just can't sleep.

We are in Indy this weekend. My mom's family, the people I am referring to when I say "my family", are having a holiday get together. Tomorrow. Well, by now, actually today. They decided to split the difference between Thanksgiving and Christmas and have just one get together. This saddens me for variety of reasons, but what is done is done and I have to deal. My husband, however, is opting to go to the ballgame instead of seeing my family which we now only see one time a year. Me, well, I'm not thrilled with this. However, I'm quietly tucking away the "get out of some family shit I don't want to do with his family" card in my pocket to be played at a later date.

So, here I sit. In a suite, where my snobbish kids have complained about not having their own bedroom and the fact that there is only one bathroom! I'm hoping the light and the noise doesn't wake them as they snooze on the sofa sleeper. I don't think it will as they were both nodding off in their mac and cheese at dinner. I can hear the drunks wandering in and out of the Wild Beaver Saloon, classy name, 9 stories below. And, the men in the room next to me appear to be also drunk and rather belligerent about the best Bloody Mary ever. EVER. Right now, the votes are in favor of some place in the French Quarter. And, I think I heard someone yacking.

The irony in all of this, is that while I sit here, at the foot of the pullout listening to both children snore blissfully, a little over seven years ago, my husband and I spent one night in this very hotel. We'd been to a Pacers game. We'd gone out afterwards to the bar attached to this hotel. We proceeded to get very, very ripped. The bartender refused to serve us anymore without proof that we were NOT driving home. So, my husband went and got a room (there was no way we were driving home!) and showed the bartender the room key and we kept right on drinking until close. I think. I don't really remember. But, what I do know is that, roughly, 41 weeks and 2 days later, my daughter was born. As we were driving down here today, I asked my husband where we were staying and he told me. I said "have we ever stayed there before?" meaning on our trips back home for football. I didn't voice that though and he smirked and said, oh yes, we spent ONE night there. One very productive night. And then, it clicked. Somehow, though, I feel a little dirty! I'm such a dork.

I'm so looking forward to, but also frightened by, tomorrow's family fun. My uncle, my mom's oldest brother, has not been quite ill and I'm scared at what I might see. He is my rock, my father figure since my dad died and I don't know how much I can handle. Holidays always suck for me when it comes to dealing with emotions surrounding my dad and then to have my fave uncle being ill. I just don't know. I don't. It is, however, so good to be going home. While I love Chicago, I miss my family something awful. And, honestly, at times, I miss my old life. I cannot believe how vastly different my life is now than I ever imagined it. When I was young, I dreamt of the big farmhouse with no neighbors and acres of land. A barn full of livestock and a large garden for me to can and freeze from. When I come back to my family, some of that comes flooding back. Can you imagine that? Me, on a farm. I know that for those of you that only know me during my Chicago years that has to be mind boggling. I'll let you in on a secret...I still have a pair of cowboy boots from my 20s. And, I still wear them every now and again.

So, here I am, in a hotel where I conceived my first child a little over seven years ago, listening to her snore and the drunks down at street level, which I was one a little over seven years ago, and worried about my aging family when I'm doing that myself. Yeah, life. What ARE you really going to do about it?

1 comment:

Rachel Burton said...

Ha! This was hysterical... and poignant. (and maybe you'll have an even more ironic story in another 41 weeks :) )I hope your family get-together went well!