Did you ever know?

I'm in the best time and place for blogging. It's Christmas, and I'm daan saaf with my parents. It's been lovely, really, a nice break. I spent most of Christmas day in bed feeling (but not being) sick, which I suppose is my body's way of reacting to me actually stopping for more than 5 minutes, so in a way that felt right.

The price I have had to pay to spend the festive period with my folks, though, is spending it also with 2Shoes, a person I don't particularly like or even want to like. Everything that comes out of her mouth sounds like a sample from one of our parents, or a more annoying version of it. She's so very full of herself and unstoppably self-confident. Oi vey. It seems strange, though, that I would think that she's like that, since in many ways she would have every right to have self=image issues, as she's had a couple of major broadly cosmetic operations and a much worse time of things socially than I. Ah well, there thrives the hero of the sibling-grass being greener...

But what was lovely was on Christmas Eve, before she came over, having the biggest hug in the world with my dad. He's totally my hero. No good reason why, just that he's my dad. I beat him at chess for the first time ever earlier this year, and it was sooooo great! And he can be a real dick... he was pretty off with Posh when we first met, and his behaviour towards another sister's boyfriend was a big part of why she no longer speaks to either of our parents. He's also full of himself and arrogant and always thinks he's right, but 2Shoes and I have vyed for his approval for many years. That may be a big part of my resentment of her... I thought I was the golden girl, and then I started to grow up, and she took my place, and never grew up so she's still in that place. I don't want what she's got - God no, I'm so aware of the strengths of my life - but a small part of me felt for a long time like she'd stolen my dad from me. I don't think I care much about it anymore.

I've come to appreciate my parents much more since becoming a parent myself. And now I ponder what image my boys will have of me as they grow up. I don't want them to build me into something I'm not, but then I don't want them to think I left them, abandoned them, walked away. As utterly arrogant and self-aggrandising as it may sound, I do hope that on some level, and for some justified reason, I can be their hero, just for a bit.