So, I have been lying here now, for two days. The craziness of Christmas finally finished and then BAM! It hit me.
I had mentioned earlier that I got sick on my birthday, but it was nothing compared to this, this heavy ANVIL OF DEATH that has descended upon my chest. Ugh. So this is why I have not been posting much. Just trying to comment on the blogs that I am reading, and I thank the good whomever that I have them to read, or I might really lose my sense of humour and ahem, CRY or something. NOT that that has happened already. Only a baby would cry when they are sick! Psshh.
So I don't want to talk about sick, because that is boring. I want to talk about something that my little brother brought up when I was home for Christmas. We were talking about the topic of having your boyfriend/ girlfriend spend the night at your parents house.
The way that it worked in my house was that it DIDN'T for me. AT ALL. My sister had a boyfriend at 16-years-old and it just kind of happened that she would worm a little hole through my parents' frontal lobes so that they would forget all about the 'boyfriend's are not allowed to sleep over' rule. But she was always good at that. The 'he is too tired and can't drive home' play was always a good one. Or the 'OMG we just fell asleep! How did that EVEN HAPPEN?' strategy was genius and so transparent, but they always allowed it forever after. I, on the other hand, felt too guilty to take advantage this way. Because I am the good child. Take heed of my words oh sister of mine! I know you are reading this you little blonde bombshell that can turn anyone into a lump of jelly. Your own parents though! Tsk.
Once it came around to the time in my life where I had a steady boyfriend at 19 years of age (ok can we just focus on that for one second? 19??!!) I was still met with a stern "No boys allowed!". Of course, I was dumbfounded: this was very unfair. It became such a great source of contention in the house because while they were saying no to me, my sister's boyfriend had moved himself in. How very strange you might be thinking. I KNOW.
I went off to university at 20, and it was not such a great problem anymore. My parents knew that myself and the same long-term boyfriend visited each other when we could, and they had no issues with that whatsoever. But then when I would go home for a holiday or just a weekend I would ask the same question, and it was always the same, "No boys allowed!". Hmm. I needed to know why there was preferential treatment being given to others and not myself. There was never really an answer given to this question. Just a mantra: "No boys allowed!". And not only was he not allowed to sleep over, he wasn't even allowed in my room! It's like my parents had something to prove by not allowing this to happen, and to be honest, I didn't care so much that he slept over, I was consumed with the 'why not?' of it all.
That boyfriend and I were together for a few years, and he never saw the sun rise in my bedroom at my parents house. It was only many, MANY years later that I am NOW allowed to have boyfriends sleep at my parents house. And that's no fun anymore, I live with him!
So let's back track to the time when I was finally allowed this forbidden thing. My little brother, at 20, got himself a girlfriend. You know, the older lady. Who was 40 something. And it came around to that time when he wanted to know if she could sleep over that night. This is how THAT conversation went down:
Bother: So mom, can I have J over for the night?
This is the part where my head snapped up, Exorcist style, from what I was doing, and two holes were burned into my mothers head.
(Uncomfortable silence) Mom: Ummm....*shifty eyes*...ask your sister.
Of course my brother knows the situation and is afraid I am going to ruin it all for him.
Brother: Oh lord. So?
Me: (sighing all over the place) YESSSSSS. I wouldn't want you to go through the same torture I DID. SIGH...
And that was the day, at 26-years-old, I was allowed to have my husband boyfriend sleep over at my parent's house. Victory!
