Whining

Since I was little I wanted to have the home that invited people. I wanted to have the party house, you know. I wanted to have a house full of people. Do you remember "Grandma's Feather Bed"? John Denver sang it years ago and that was what I wanted. I wanted a house filled with cousins and aunts and uncles, friends, brothers and sisters and people whose relationships are of the hard to trace kind. Are they a third cousin once removed or a fourth cousin? Is that Uncle Jason's third wife's son from a previous marriage or is that Danny, Aunt Ethel's son by Uncle Daniel who died in the war?

I don't know quite why, but I am too boring or sedate of something, not at all the person I wanted to be, because when I invite people over they rarely come. My kids back out of holidays, and even my parent's bail. That's pretty bad when your own parent's bail on you.

So...I have decided that perhaps I don't have true friends. Perhaps I do not have people that will show up. We don't get invited to join people very often and no one wants to join us. I don't know why.

That's not true. I do know why. We aren't fun. Well, that's going to change. I've spent too many years being overwhelmed by life circumstances. Too many years just this side of depressed. It's too easy for me to slip into that.

I thought my kids would want to come home to be with us no matter what we were doing. Oh well. Not true. Okay.