Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs

Lyle is on vacation this week, hanging at home. He thought his family was going to be here for a little reunion of sorts – breaking news in itself once you get them in the same room. Schedules were altered, and they are due to arrive in shifts beginning Friday.

Love ‘em, but I believe they are even crazier than my family. First off, my family knows it swirls in crazy We are like the state of being verbs – of crazy. Our mere existence can lead to crazy, especially if we don’t take the necessary precautions.

I kinda like it, not the crazy part, but you know where you stand. My dad is the only one who doesn’t like to admit it, but he will at least fess up now after we’ve all endured years of therapy. I think it is that manly hang up of not wanting to acknowledge weakness. But you can’t have grown up in our house or hidden out in the bathroom at any one of our houses much later and not realized there is a state of crazy lying right beneath the rug.

I’m prone to believe that it exists in everyone’s house. The advantage of having it out there, uncovered and living through it is that growth comes from crazy – as long as you make it to the other side. So, I like our somewhat-less-than-perfect familial unit. It’s real. It’s honest. It’s mine.

I find Lyle’s family extremely intriguing. I also love them dearly. They each have good hearts and welcomed me into their family 12-million years ago. When Lyle discussed the details of their impending visit, he looked at the smile spread across my face and saw my mind swirl like leaves falling from a tree on a windy day frantically trying to find just the right spot on the ground below. He quickly reminded me that some of his family reads my blog.

Separately, they all function quite well in society. But something takes over when you get them in the same room. It’s not a power struggle because they immediately revert into old family patterns. The oldest holds everyone hostage as she bosses them around with a list of her demands. The middle one – the good, responsible one – tries to makes everyone happy. I relate to her, that was my job once upon a time. Then Lyle, oops, I mean the third child, the forgotten one, tunes out and doesn’t listen to any of them. Their brother is no longer in the picture; his death remains tragic to this day.

I used to hop into their craziness, now I try to step back and watch the entertainment unfold. One family is making a pit stop at the family homestead via the East Coast. Right now the posse is trying to figure out how everyone is going to get here from there, three hours away, and hey, what about sleeping arrangements? Lyle listened and tried to accommodate. He listened calmly until his dad suggested we change venues and come there. Yea, that sounds like a good idea. Eleven people crammed in one house without air conditioning when we have a perfectly cool house that sits on lake screaming summer vacay. I thought Lyle’s eyes might bug from his head at that suggestion. Even Mr. Easy Going can only be pushed so far.

I was originally planning to take some time off, but since I ended up taking vacation last week, I will probably need to work. I’m thinking there are worse ways to spend my days. This way, I will buzz in and out and let them remain, unbeknownst to them, stuck in their own private Coo Coo for Cocoa Puffs state of being.