While laying in the dark last night, having a small panic attack.
The Barren and I were going over the myriad of family events
we are attending these next two weeks.
We are attending a HUGE family dinner tonight where I see one of my SIL, the one who NEVER responds to gifts, or gestures for her children.
I am working on releasing that anger/hurt
Then this weekend we attend what would have been the birthday for The Barrens cousin, she passed away in November from a rare form of lung cancer. She never smoked a day in her life.
The celebration site is located about 10hours from our home, so it requires us driving all day, to spend a day and then drive home so we can be back to work on Monday.
Then another birthday weekend celebration that has us driving to another location, a ranch for a weekend, where we celebrate my aunts 70th birthday.
It is more like being sequestered, as we are required to stay, eat with and partake in all pre-planned activities. We are only given cryptic clues as to what clothes we are required to bring,
and what we will be doing.
Fun for some, but based on our history...it is a mixed bag.
Past family events have been mildly OK, with healthy dashes of bullying you into doing things you'd prefer not to and berating comments about your food preferences or lifestyle choices.
So a typical family vacation.
For reference, the last time the family did this, we now all refer to the weekend as "Hell Weekend"
The ranch has horses, and although I would like to ride, I broke my butt a week and a half ago falling on the roller rink...
really, I think I cracked my tailbone, I have all the signs according to Dr. Google.
So I foresee a small battle on this one, like buck up and stop whining and just get on the horse.
There is a family photo involved too, as the clothing list requires we all bring a white shirt and a pair of levis (jeans).
The Barren and I were laughing at this because neither of us has a plain white shirt!
I was telling him how it made me anxious to think of a huge family picture,
but then I calmed myself by thinking, well at least they are not using it on the side of a bus or something.
So, my level of embarrassment can be controlled in a way.
Then in reflection of this photo I said to him, "hey we are the like the caboose at the end of the train."
Maybe we should make shirts, or refer to ourselves all weekend as Mr and Mrs Caboose.
The end of the line!