When Family Comes To Town

In theory, I love the idea of family coming to town. I actually like my family. I like spending time with them and showing them the world that I live in. Months before their arrival I make page after page itineraries to be followed on a minute to minute schedule. I consult magazine articles, friends, Lonely Planet guidebooks (even though I live here) and old people who hopefully grew up here, but often turn out to be confused….

When people actually get here, I present the schedule which I like to stress is totally flexible but actually is not. Every change they suggest or hem and haw that occurs over a decision is a waste in time. I don’t care if this is your vacation! I have made so many plans, rough drafts and typed up schedules to make this your most jam packed visit, fantastic, life changing trip to Austin, TX ever! And, while I still enjoy the person’s presence somewhat, I start to resent them for not knowing where they would like to go or being overly flexible. Or having a need to do laundry, which really wouldn’t be a problem if I had a washer and a dryer but alas, I don’t.

In the end, my incredibly relaxed and vacation oriented mother loved her trip to Austin and I’m very glad she came (even if I did spend the entire worrying nervously about the schedule and kept asking if everyone was having fun). She had a much needed reunion with Texas BBQ, floated down the Guadalupe River with a cold beer in her hand (just the one beer though), listened to honky tonk music and met all of my friends.

Now, if I can just make it through my dad’s visit in a couple months….

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s