On the Road Again

On the Road Again

I recently took a road trip with my parents and sister to meet up with my brother and sister-in-law for a wedding.  It’s amazing how one 24 hour trip can have you laughing so hard one minute, and looking to punch someone the next.

My parents picked me up, and reminiscent of 1984, I climbed into the back seat and buckled up: super-smart considering my father spent the majority of the 2.5 hour ride weaving in and out of lanes.  I only know this because as I was trying to snooze, the lane changing detectors were beeping constantly, while my mom continuously shouted “Jesus Christ, Bob!  Watch the God-damned road!”  The erratic driving coupled with my sister in the seat next to me, who insisted on relaying inappropriate details about all aspects of her life, led to the realization that I could capitalize on a new reality TV show about the most functional, dysfunctional family.  Any producers out there interested?  I promise quality TV!

Upon our arrival, we surveyed the really nice, but REALLY small NYC hotel room.  All four of us were sharing this space, and I decided right then and there that a large amount of alcohol would be needed to get even an ounce of sleep.  Taking that as a cue, my sister and I escaped to a bar with promises to bring coffee back to the parents.

Fast forward through the amazingly fun wedding and reception, to when my sister and I made our way back to our closet-like hotel room, hours after our parents had turned in for the night.  Naturally, our key did not work, so my somewhat aggressive mom answered the door.  “Are you kidding me?!!  Where the hell have you two been?!!”  The beauty of being 39 is that I’m only about 75% as scared of her as I was when I was 12.  The brave 25% told her to simmer down, and we got settled in for the night.

As predicted, sleeping was about as non-existent as it was the 1st night I brought our babies home from the hospital.  For years, both of my parents have accused the other of snoring, and I’m here to tell you that they’re both equally correct.  I am now confident that sleeping in the same room as them can be used as a torture technique.  All the while, my sister, knowing that I don’t like to be touched at night, draped her leg across me in our full-sized bed, hence my desire to punch someone.

After what can be categorized at the “worst night’s sleep ever,” we woke up both yelling and laughing at the same time.  “You know what?  I’m sick and tired of all of you!” “I’m literally NEVER sleeping in the same room with any of you EVER again.”  While my family may be the most inappropriate, annoying, sleep-depriving group of people, they’re my people.

I love how some things never change.

~ Melissa

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