I haven't shared any "from home" stories yet, and I do apologize for that lack. Fortunately (or unfortunately) I haven't been blessed with the opportunity to iron the carpet or be bowled over trying to move the couch again this year. But...that doesn't mean I'm without tales.

My mother, bless her heart, has a tendency to ask questions when she already knows what she wants and what she will do. For instance, when I'm home I tend to travel to various different places seeing friends--this has been a tradition since I moved far away four years ago. Saturday, I believe it was, my mom asked me, "are you going to go see your friends?" I told her yes and she asked, "do you mind if your father and I tag along?" You would think after all this time of being her daughter I could have recognized this question for the statement it was. She wasn't asking what I wanted you see, she was being polite in telling me what was going to happen. In hindsight it all makes so much sense. "I'd rather not," I told her--I gave up indirectness with my parents years ago. "Oh," she said, "well, I have some shopping to do so I thought we would." Uh-huh.

Generally I don't care if my parents travel with me, and I'm long past the age of "I have to be cool with my friends" business, but I get a little claustrophobic in my home town. There's nothing here. Really. And not having a vehicle of my own (what with the flying home and everything) I can't just drive. I can't leave town without first asking to use my parents vehicle, or in this case, with my parents. That means that when I have a particular plan--shop, see friend, see Australia--I have to modify said plan because they have insisted on coming along.

It should also be noted that I'm premenstrual and experiencing nicotine withdrawal since I smoked too much before coming home and not smoking at all. This is not a good combination when dealing with one's mother. Under the circumstances I did my best to perform admirably (I think).

My day starts off with my mom, moments after I awake asking, "do you know what I'm doing today yet?" She had attempted to plan when we would travel since winter weather was supposed to come through and apparently I was supposed to do the planning for all of us. Those of you that know me know I don't wake up well under the best of circumstances--to be awoken with a question requiring I plan a day I don't particularly want to plan...it was almost too much. I decide we should go in the end, so we take off for the great wonderland with a mall and everything is going fairly well. I think perhaps it won't be so bad after all; I'm still feeling claustrophobic and wishing I could have just gotten out of the house by myself, but my parents are good people and it's nice to make them happy. We arrive at the much larger city, though, and it quickly becomes apparent that there is a lot of traffic. My father, whom I share many traits with, does not do well in traffic or in crowds. He starts to grumble excessively and drive just a little crazy because he wants/needs to be out of the crowd. I respect this need since I need to go to the bathroom badly, but I also had a plan for my day and I'm feeling a bit sensitive to my father thwarting that plan because it's crowded.

We make it to the mall, we shop--everyone's a bit short-tempered, but that's Christmas right? We head back to the car and the real fun begins. I want to see Australia. I've wanted to see this movie for almost a month. When I agreed to travel with them it was so that they could take me to said movie. First no one can decide where they want to eat dinner. I'm on the phone with my friend in town who has just gotten out of work and he can't decide when he'll be free, if he'll be free, how he'll be free, or what the esoteric concept of freedom is. Were I by myself I would just go hang out until he was done with all his post-work nonsense, but I wasn't. So we're back in traffic, dad is grumbling, mom is pouting, and I'm on the phone trying to get an answer about where to direct us. An executive decision is made and we head up north--through more traffic, more grumbling--and go to dinner at a place right next to the theatre. The entire time my father is saying he doesn't want to see this movie. We should go see another movie. We won't make the movie in time if we eat at this place. It wasn't so much the pms or the nicotine withdrawal that made me snap. No, really it was my parents love, smothering me like a plastic bag over my face.

I told him no one said he had to come and he invited himself so he could stop complaining. He shot back he never had a choice and had to come. I have sympathy, it's true. Mom probably "asked" him if he wanted to come as well. Mom tearfully asked us to get along. I immediately felt guilty which only made me more angry, but somewhere along the way I decided I should probably repress like any good adult and did my best to even out my temperment. My dad, probably because there's no more room for him to repress after 38 years of marriage, told her we (he and I) were doing just fine and were getting along. The sad thing was, it was true. Regardless he and I cheered up and stopped picking at each other. I told them we could go see another movie--I would always rather see a movie people want to see and the movie I want to see later, then sit through a movie I like with people that don't want to be there. But now we had to go see Australia.

My friend even showed up eventually once he found his freedom and we all went to the movie together. It was a pretty frickin' spectacular movie.

When the movie was over my dad complained again. I yelled at him again. We all piled in the van for the drive home and my friend left for the blissful quiet of his own apartment. So goes another family Christmas.

I love being home. And sometimes home loves me so much I can't breathe. Awesome.