Cousin Erin's is booooooring

More babies! Or, actually, a preschooler and twin toddlers. In my city. My house. Oh. Man.

My mom is No. 6 in a line of 11 children. I am third oldest of 33 grandchildren. The aforementioned little children are hanging out on the end of this branch of the family tree, and this week, they (and my uncle and aunt) are in Wisconsin Dells.

Monday after work, I'll be at my house with these people. To say I'm excited is like saying a car that takes 10 minutes to start is just a little annoying. I'm going to come right out and admit here, because I have no shame, that I despise not knowing anyone who doesn't have "@thenorthwestern.com." attached to their e-mail address. Those folks are few and far between ... and usually spouses of those Northwesterners. No offense, people, but I'm married to one of those guys, I am one of those guys, I am at that place so many hours a week and talking about it at home against my will so many hours of the week ... Woman needs a small break, ya know?

I think most people would've just called it "homesick" and been done with it, but I thought I'd dramaticize a bit. I feel better, anyhow.

As I was saying before my temporary ADHD kicked in was this: My uncle, aunt and their three kids will be at my house on Monday. I get to show them what it's like to live in the tundra, the central time zone, and in a place where time often stands still.

I'm looking forward to it, even besides my rational fear of being vaguely remembered as "That One Boring Place With No Kids to Play With or Toys to Entertain Us When We Were On Vacation In Wisconsin" to these kids years from now (because, hi, Great-Uncle Harry didn't really have stuff to play with and I was angry about my few hour-long visits there for years).

We'll be walking in Meijers 10 years from now and the too-cool 12- and 11-year-old kids will see me at the end of the aisle and as their mom says "Oh, let's go say hi to Cousin Erin!" they'll cringe and remember .... That woman has ZERO toys. And her dog is psycho. And they'll beg their mom to let them go look at mp3 players instead. God (rolling eyes), this is so lame! I'm so embarrassed, Mom. I hate you! I can't wait til I'm in college.

But Monday, my aunt and uncle will probably ask about work, but I don't have to tell a story with "And THEN guess what he said!" in it. Yesss. It shall be a good evening.

Tuesday'll suck, but that's another blog post entirely.