Slappy Kiester everyone!

I'm gonna talk seriously here for a bit, then I promise I'll go back to being a smartass. Promise.

I love my family.

I hear so much about dysfunction, abuse, hatred, distancing, etc among other families that it makes me appreciate mine that much more.

My parents are amazing. Married 41 years on the 30th of this month. That is a statement in itself. They're cute as hell, and still hold hands. They are a testament to finding the right person.

I have two older sisters, and they have succeeded in their lives consistently in career, family, and happiness.

Then there's me.

One of my own deep-seated psychological problems is that I will always be striving for their approval, especially with the folks. I want them to be proud of me. They SHOULD be proud of me. But to them, I will always be the kid that wrecked two cars, got drunk in high school, was kicked out of college TWICE, etc etc. Somehow I don't think there will ever be a time where they will ever think of me in any way but the messed up kid I once was.

Sure, I screwed up in the past. You've had to bail me out more than a few times. But damn, what's the statute of limitations on that?
See me for who this guy is now. The one with a good job, money in the bank, the awesomeness known as ChaCha on my arm. That old B is gone. Look past that.

Last October there was a major screwup at my bank, and I had zero funds on the morning that I was taking out the Dad for his birthday. I called ChaCha to vent, and she told me to call them and explain. They'd understand. I couldn't. Although in the past few years I've had some lean times, even though the situations were entirely understandable it was not an option to let them know. It would only justify and validate how they view me.

I love all of you, but get over it.

...

The dinner was awesome, I had a friggin blast with my sister's kids, and had great conversations. The wine helped.

I love my family.