V's here in Madras. Reached on Tuesday and I've been having a merry old time being petted by him, and snarling at him, and feeling him up when he hasn't been expecting it, and watching him look adoringly at The Bhaeblet, and generally, just enjoying having my family together again.
I've been so homesick these last three weeks in Madras, it wasn't funny. And now V's here and we're going home next week, so yippee. I'm really glad V's here -- once he's with me my parents no longer feel 'responsible' for me and in fact V and I are encouraged to go out as much as possible, since it allows them to be in complete charge of The Bhaeblet, without any interfering mother carrying him off at naptimes.
6 REASONS WHY GROWN-UP MARRIED DAUGHTERS SHOULD NOT STAY WITH THEIR PARENTS:
1. You're too old to accept curfews gracefully.
2. You're sick of being treated like a child, especially if you have one of your own!
3. You miss your husband. And watching him and the aforementioned child together.
4. You are used to your own household, and being at the helm. A short break from this is a holiday. A long one is just restrictive.
5. Your parents find it hard to accept that their baby is mature enough to care for their grandchild and will nag at you all day about how you should not be doing the things that you are doing and how you were indulged in your childhood, you who are being so strict with your baby [read their precious grandson]. Which is of course a blatant falsehood. You had a strict upbringing and you jolly well remember it.
6. They don't let you go home. Not because they want you around but because they don't want the grandson to leave. Not all flattering, not even if you are a besotted mother who thinks the world revolves around your child. (Which I'm not, because I'm pretty sure the world revolves around me, anyway.)
1 REASON WHY IT'S ALL WORTH IT, REALLY:
1. Watching grandparents and grandson enjoy each others' company. Nothing like it. My own paternal grandfather gave us, his grandchildren, a love and security that nobody else has ever been able to match. I was so upset when he died, so angry at his desertion, I hardly ever spoke of him for nearly a decade. It took me that long to accept that it wasn't his fault.
When I watch my parents with The Bhaeblet, I see in them a joy that I suppose I will only understand when I have grandchildren of my own. To them, with all his little ways, he is perfect. He rounds out their lives and makes up for the hardships.
And when I see how secure they make him feel, so loved, I guess I can put up with a few restrictions.