I’ve been raised alone with my mom & dad. It was quiet at home, most of the time. I love peace and quiet, still.
When I visit friends who have kids and loud relatives like it was the case on Saturday, I can almost roar. After six hours of screaming or crying kids included with loud relatives I felt I had been present enough. Family gatherings can be nice, and even if there was no arguments, no tension or anything of the sort I had to get out of there. I write “I” but in fact FB Hubby also wanted to leave.
During our time at this First Birthday Party, a cousin of the host told me, every time she sees me I’m in the kitchen helping, doing the dishes or something like that.
Saturday, I spent a good two to three hours, cleaning up chickens (nine of them, actually) after their bodies were carved.
“I rather be doing this than socialising” was my answer to her. While I’m “stuck” in the kitchen, I don’t have to entertain or talk to people I don’t want to, you know, like relatives of relatives you only see on occasions like these, and don’t really care about?
I’m realising the older I get; I have less tolerance or inclination to do things for appearances. I do things because I want to, not to please someone or to make one feel good. I don’t feel this need to be nice. I’ve been called “bitch” because of this. I don’t really think it’s fitting, but then again, I could so say this: