I invited my sister and her family to visit us, an offer she accepted with an abruptness (the details of which I will omit except to say, not only does the woman not listen, she has issues with reading comprehension as well) that had me scrambling in preparation for two solid days. I suspect many frequently find day to day activities requiring fortitude, but having had the privilege of living in the U.S. albeit on island time, the rush of preparations was equally annoying, stressful and invigorating of which I am not complaining but clarifying.

I pressured myself to find new or different activities to merge with the old favorite activities to keep the trip from feeling like a recycled broken record of their previous visit. We’ve resided here long enough to fall into habits and comfort zones that stifle the search for new experiences, but such is the downfall of integrating into local culture. I don’t want to sound like a marketing campaign for the greater Chatt area so suffice it say, we spent time at a touristy venue, as well as less trendy adventures like the empty lot on the brow to see the groundhog family living in a gutted swimming pool, the plant nursery where the barn swallows nest and the watergarden store that has the most awesome koi pond. E.V.E.R. And yes, I am including the aquarium.

Hosting my family warps the natural momentum of our home. Think compare and contrast NOT whine. They are vibrant, loud, competitive, interruptive, intelligent, witty and emotionally demanding. Our house is quieter, passive aggressive and laid back (and probably emotionally demanding in an entirely different way). Not the best combined ingredients for a delicate pastry, but perfect for a cocktail that awakens you with a premature hangover headache at 3AM.

I enjoy spending time with them, but the stress often equals the joy. Aside from introverts, I think stay at home, or mostly at home moms understand it best. The nature of their position requires they be turned on and tuned in more than is required by those of us who lead largely solitary lives. I appreciated the roll of primary caregiver but more so after three days of not peeing alone.

It’s moments like this that I’m relieved not to be traveling with an inquisitive child in the car so that I can truly appreciate a moment of someone’s mischievous vision rather than concerning myself as to whether the little person traveling with me will a) be scarred for life or b) educate a class of kindergartners in the mythological proportions of feline genitalia.

For the curious among you, the bumper sticker on the lower write states, “Being a Self-Sufficient, Well-Adjusted Adult is Highly Overrated.” . And no, this isn’t my vehicle, nor was I driving when I took the photos.