sleep well (post). I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

This post gets way more personal than I normally do here. I might just delete it later. Right now I need to write it out and stare at it for a while.

My kids are the first grandchildren on my side of the family (meaning my father and stepmother and mother and stepfather). My oldest is seventeen, so grandparent names have been in place for that long. My sister is about to have her first. For my mother and stepfather, this will be the first grandchild that is not one of my kids.

The names that my children call my mother and stepfather were chosen by my mother. Possibly my stepfather's name had input from him, but not necessarily. At my sister's shower today, it became apparent that my mother has chosen new, completely different grandparent names for this new grandchild to call them. Not because of duplicate names (you know, where my sister's husband's parents want dibs on a certain name).

There is a history of hurt feelings involved...past cruelties that, were you to ask my mother (I have), I invented. There are two sides to every story and our versions of the past do not mingle. In the house that I grew up in, I frequently felt like an unwelcome member. As a result, my mother is not involved in my life on a daily basis. We basically see each other at holidays and birthdays. This, despite the fact that, until we moved here in 2005, we lived next door to her for 13 years. I love her but it hurts to be around someone who seems to shower attention and affection on my siblings, skipping over me.

A couple of years ago I told Billiam (half joking, but not really) that when my sisters started having children we would have to move far, far away because it would be too painful to see her all over those babies when my own are largely ignored. Again, ask her (I have) and she will tell you that it's my fault. The kids, by the way, eat up any attention she does throw their way.

Now this name thing is gnawing at me. It feels like yet another jab. Treat me different and I hurt. Treat my kids different and the hurt aches fresh and worse than before.

My father says that I shouldn't let it bother me. That she is who she is and I know that. He's right. I do know that. And I know that I should be thankful that my kids have loving grandparents in my dad and stepmother who are involved in their lives on a daily basis. And, until she died, they had my husband's mother who thought my kids hung the moon. I am truly grateful for those people. It should be enough. My mind tells me this while another small piece of my heart breaks.