Family

Oh, the things we do for family. What compels us to do so much more than we’d do for anybody else?

Last night after work I came home, started the fillings for the cakes, torted and filled them before making the frosting, colored and frosted and decorated the cakes before moving on to the other sewing project I decided to make for my sister and her husband’s first baby. I for one am tired, sore and bruised (yes, those bruises from my latest sewing project did finally show up) and still have to work this morning before heading off to the baby shower this afternoon. And the kiddos will be here, which thank God their mother agreed to bring them this morning instead of last night while my partner was chaperoning a sleepover at the church. Oy vey.

On the plus side I have a finished baby shower cake large enough to feed a small army and finished the sewing project I wanted to get done because it’ll go with the baby quilt I made for them too. So success! My tasks are complete and all at the expense of just a little sleep deprivation and hard work. I mean, I still have to wrap the stuff, but at least if I don’t get that far the gifts (I seriously just typed that four times in a row as figts… again, sleepy) are ready for giving. Honestly, I can’t wait. On the downside I have an assload of dishes to be washed and a horrifically messy house that needs cleaning.

So why do we go to extremes for family when we wouldn’t necessarily do so for friends? I think there is a deeper bond at play here, and I’m including those friends we count as family in this as well because, let’s be honest, family is a lot more than blood these days. A friend asks you to help them with something and you check your calendar to make sure you’re doing something else. A family member asks the same thing and you say you’ll do it. There are always exceptions to this, but for the most part this is how I see it, unbreakable priorities aside. Or you are just a really bad friend.