Signed, Confused in Paradise.

Suppose that I should follow up a bit more.  Sorry about that. The party went off without a hitch- very few people showed up, as expected, but the ones who did made the day. I had a blast.

This should probably teach me to quit my bitching, but I don't think it's going to have much of an effect.

We're on Prudence. Have been since last Wednesday when I drove up from Maryland after staying a few days with Michelle and her two.  Not sure that I would have chosen an extra few days of family bonding, but the slots on the boat were limited and you guys were so excited to see Granne and Grandbob that it made sense.

The weather has been pleasant, the temperatures moderate. The house is clean, the beds made and my parents have been bending over backwards to accommodate healthy meals and not expect me to clean up everything all the time. They have been ridiculously helpful.  So why do I want to scream?

Seriously, this place is gorgeous. A beautiful environment, trails, garden, access to the beach and the water. But as I sit here in the main room where I'm supposed to be writing to your dad, all I can think of is that I want to throttle someone. All I wanted was a bit of privacy. A moment of quiet. Some down time.

Not. Going. To happen.

You have run in and out a few times. Your grandmother thinks that right now is the perfect time to sweep the floor and sigh heavily. Maybe clang a few dishes.  Putting away the bags that have been sitting out for a few days up into the attic has become a HUGE priority. Now. Right now.

I never thought of myself as a loner. I just like being alone sometimes. I like losing myself in a book and concentrating to the point that it runs along my (Can you help me get a cup? I can't get a cup! ) brain like a movie only I can see.  But it's harder to concentrate and get any sort of groove to write or (I want a cup too!) read when you wonderful wee blessings are in my face every ten seconds.  Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change this time for love or money, but reading a book straight through seems like a  (I want water!) far off dream.

And let's face facts. Your grandmother and I are both strong willed people. Granne and Grandbob have their life and their schedule here that we are interrupting. We're adding an interesting new element and are more than welcome, but we're barging into the middle and disrupting their days. So of course,  they are trying to take back control.

Problem is, I'm usually the one in charge.  So when your grandmother gets you up and wants you to get dressed before blueberry muffins, I want to take a pass. It's no big deal for me to send you out to play in the yard while you're still in pajamas until you get hungry, but it's a HUGE faux pas to your Granne.  Food first, then change, then outside.  There is order to the chaos. Me? I'm okay with you going off to play until you get hungry. I'm more than okay with the dishes sitting until we feel like doing them, or the laundry waiting until we feel like doing it.  But they have a routine and we are trying to be respectful.

But the yelling. Wow. I never realized how impatient my parents are. Maybe I'm going to be just like them when you're older, but the knee-jerk barking responses are enough to make me tell them to back off. Of course, they find this endearing and do so immediately. NOT.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful and I know that I sound it right now.  We've been here for two weeks and they've been nothing but gracious.  But when you're older, and you and your kids come to visit....we're going to have a lot to talk about.  Just talk to me, okay?  I'll try not to get defensive and upset while you tell me what you need.  And I'll try hard to listen.

We can work this out. Either that or we can start drinking. I'm up for either one.