Blood is thicker than fireworks

Wow. Nothing like being around your parents and siblings to make you completely question your sense of self.

I'm really no different than the gal I was as a child, teenager, young adult, woman, but the older I get the more I grow into myself. That's a good thing. I'm more comfortable and confident than ever before, and I love it. However, my siblings have grown into themselves and we've all grown apart from each other, so when we get together we often don't know how to piece our relationships back together. At least I don't.

It doesn't help that my mom is bequeathing me with "good girl" status again, praising me for my self-flagellating attempts to make sure Anonybabe has only the most nutritious, healthy foods, and has breast-milk on demand and is nearly always comfortable and happy...sometimes all of this to the point of absurdity. I tried to tell my mom that a lot of the “good” things I do as a parent are only me trying to make lemonade out of the lemons of fear and ineptitude and lethargy and insecurity. She’s still happy that I look more presentable to her friends than my tattooed, rehabbed brother, or my trailer park, Marlboro Lites sister.

I was always the good little girl, the one who did things "right" to the applause of mom and dad. In short, not the kid you want to be by any stretch of the imagination, but the one you probably resent for all of the gold stars they get for being such a brown noser. Then you realize nobody could pay you to live your life like that, and if that's the way you have to act to get your parents' approval, then screw your parents. I don't think my younger siblings resent me for getting undeserved pats on the back when they didn't, not any more, and not for a long time. But I still feel like the goody-two-shoes they don't feel comfortable being themselves around. It kinda sucks. I feel like they are way beyond me in terms of life experience and common sense, and now I'm the baby, desperate for their approval, blushing furiously when I'm the only one at the party other than my mom who doesn't know how to open up a beer bottle with a lighter.

I don’t want to parent like them. At least not in all aspects. My sister is a drill sergeant and my brother is laid back almost to the point of neglect. But. But they both seem to know how to have a good time; and it has got to be about the best thing a child can see growing up is their parents truly having fun.

Anonybabe is tentative with new folks, and I've gone back and forth about whether I should beat myself up about that, or throw her into more uncomfortable situations so she toughens up, or act as her advocate and let her take her own pace meeting people. My sister's family is definitely of the throw-her- in- the-pool-so-she-can learn-how- to- swim camp. They can't believe I still let her use a pacifier (at 15 months). They think I'm doing her a huge disservice by putting her to sleep rather than letting her cry it out. I'm sure they can't believe I'm still nursing her, and they would be horrified to hear about my dabbling in child-rearing philosophies that involve respecting the child's feelings and wishes. In their eyes, children survive their childhood by learning to obey, and then fighting tooth and nail for their independence. Hell, they would be scornful about the term "child-rearing philosophies" period. In their mind you use common sense to raise your kids; philosophies are for elitists who like to spend their time in mental masturbation rather than action.

At least, this is the way I assume they see things, and see me.

And in some ways, I tend to agree with the way they see things. And sometimes I get jealous of the way they live their lives, with the beer and the crawdad fishing and the baseball tournaments. But fuck, people. I can't be anybody but me. And I read and love to sink into childrearing philosophies. I love restaurants where people sink their imagination and love into making two amazing bites of food. I love living in cities. I love reading essays and comments to online newspaper articles. I prefer trying to do things "right" and then being a little self-righteous about it. I definitely have my eyes wide open when it comes to my sister's happiness and how her life fulfills her. And I want to try to make some of the elements of her life work for me. I loved the community of families my sister is a part of. I love the stuff they do for fun - fishing, drinking, sitting around someone’s living room and smoking and talking for hours on end. But I can't be my sister. I love raising my daughter according to my own lights.

There was a moment when my sister's ten year old son Freckles was holding Anonybabe, and I felt this warm sense of love and pride. The next generation. Right there in front of me. They were blood, no matter how different or indifferent they grew. And I was really grateful that they get to be a part of each other’s lives.