We've already established that travelling with an infant takes organization, promptness, flexibility (both with situations and of the body) and, if necessary, prescription drugs. By now we've pretty much got our little circus down to a science. We just returned from a short trip to New Hampshire for the dual purpose of attending my great-uncle's funeral and introducing Josie to her maternal forbears. It had to happen eventually, and being the adaptable little creature that she is she seemed to take her Yankee legacy in stride.
Luckily for my travel agenda although my parents are no longer married, their families are still intimately intertwined. My father got my maternal uncle drunk for the first time. Each of my parents has sisters that were close friends with each other. My paternal uncle attends the same Lodge as two of my maternal uncles. My paternal cousin works with my maternal aunt. I had a limited time for the Josie Meet and Greet so it works out well- we just had one big Family barbecue.
Poor Tim has married into this cacophony of intermingled relatives. He is more than a trooper, and I think they honestly like him, in spite of his college boy hands, Catholic last name, inability to catch a llama and freakish height. Tim stands a full foot taller than almost every single person at these immense gatherings, which at least makes it easier to keep track of him. It looks as though Josie will probably be taller than most of her cousins by the time she is three years old.
Sometimes I can't help but be sad after a family party. I have become a woman without a country, no longer fitting in with the hardworking farmers, factory workers and truck drivers that I come from but not quite fitting in with my college funded, perfect teeth over-educated colleagues. My family mistrusts and disdains city dwelling liberals, and would have a fit if they knew I spend twenty-five dollars on a pair of shoes for my immobile daughter or thirty dollars for shampoo. I do not mean to say I feel guilty for what I have. I worked very hard to be where I am now, but I want Josie to grow grateful for what she has. I do not want her to take her new clothes and toys for granted. I don’t want her to have to get her high chair from the dump, but I don’t want her to feel superior to those who do. I feel guilty that don’t want her to grow up on a farm, but I’m not sure I want her growing up here among the over-privileged suburban youth. It’s a tough line to walk.
Regardless, we had a really nice weekend, and Josie got to meet tons of relations. I had my yearly clam fix, almost everything we ate was raised, grown or canned by my family and Tim and Josie both tasted Moxie soda for the first time. Josie was charming even though she missed naps and meals and bedtimes. Family gatherings are even more fun, now that I have a family of my own.
