My Two Families

For the first 21 years of my life, I lived either in my parents' house or within swatting distance of them (you know what I'm talking about - the range of your arm).  

Being a nanny up here meant living 1000 miles away from everyone I knew and for the first time in my life, I was homesick, momentarily.  And then I realized all the merits of living so far from your family.  

First of all, you could conceivably live with your boyfriend without getting busted (not that I could - having not a boyfriend and a live-in position with the Roshambo's, but you get the picture).  You could also ride around town all day, smoking joints and not worrying about whether or not your parents were about to roll onto campus (not that I could - having not my own car and usually 5 chirrens in whatever vehicle I am driving, but you get my point.  Perhaps the advantage I can most enjoy is that my family just gets more and more awesome - in my head. 

The way your dad farts all day long in the kitchen?  Gone.  The way your mom wakes you up by singing "wake up, little rosebud" every.single.morning?  Totally cute and endearing.  The way your sisters steal all your best shit, eat all the best shit in the kitchen, and then yell at you for leaving a boy in their bed?  Never again, my friends. Never again.  

Since relocating, I'll spend all day telling everyone how awesome my mom is.  Then she'll call me and remind me to do something like brush my hair and all of a sudden I'm all, "Who are you???  Put my idealized mother back on the phone!"