Who's your daddy?

Saturday, 3 July 2010

I’ve sometimes wondered if I’m from a different gene pool to the rest of my family. But I know I’m not. I see too many physical similarities between us and I just can’t see my mother ever having taken Mr Pettigrew, our milkman back in the 70s, up on his offer.

Don’t get me wrong, I love all my siblings and my parents. But sometimes it feels like we live such different lives and don't really know each other, that I wonder how it is that we're related. Some families are just like that. In ours, I think we cottoned on pretty young that if you wanted stability and security, you had to go out and find it for yourself. That's always gonna have an impact on the nucleus.

They say that looking at a person’s relationship with their family gives clues as to what sort of spouse or parent they will be. So next time some guy comes out with the “Why are you still single?” question that I get asked all the time (a thinly veiled “What’s wrong with you?”), I’ll just point them straight to the old family photo albums. It should save a whole lot of time. I'm only being half serious; but it might explain my supposed commitment phobia, a
lthough I personally prefer to think of it as something else entirely :)

Ofcourse, the major advantage of not being born into the original cast of The Waltons is that you get to design your very own bespoke family; the kin of your wildest dreams. Never having lacked in the imagination department myself, over the years I have done just that. My designer family is cool, crazy, hails from all over the world and is very real. I have more sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews and godchildren in this world than most people would ever be lucky enough to lay claim to.

My family are the people I want to throw my arms around whenever I see them. The people I have enough incriminating evidence on to fill up several scandalous novels - and they me. The people I know who see the real me and all is still forgiven! The people I can call upon when shit really hits the fan, who I can also rely on to tell me to pull my head in when I need it and who hopefully feel the same way about me.
I think it's called unconditional love.

My family are the people I light palm trees on fire with just to celebrate being together - which all things considered, doesn’t happen often enough in life. So at the risk of being totally misunderstood - who’s your daddy?