Ever since we inadvertently began staying here at my parents’ house again beginning June, we have more or less been settling into a pretty predictable pattern, especially on weekends. Ever since Mischa was born, we always seem to run here whenever uh, issues, arise in Rizal where we normally stay–loss of nannies, particularly, and some unmentionables that I’d rather keep although I knew I’ve dropped hints in a few posts.
Our life looks pretty much like this for the past dozen weeks–laundry, playtime, nap times, church, lunch out, nap times and more playtimes. Good or bad, that I don’t know yet.
I think I have previously mentioned somewhere here in this blog that my folks have got to be the most unadventurous creatures in the whole world. This goes for just about everything in their lives, and being the controlling people they are, have made them cope with situations that have come their way in their six decades of existence.
That being said, it seems that we’re somehow getting into the same grove of spending our free time in pretty much the same way since we are living with them at the moment. I don’t mean this the wrong way, but this makes it pretty hard sometimes to plan things or family activities that don’t involve them. Guilt would always tug at my insides if I want just the three of us to bond as a family together. We couldn’t “ditch” them and go out knowing they spend the whole week taking care of a hyperactive toddler while we are off at work. But really, sometimes I feel the urge to be selfish and have my daughter to myself. I want to have quality time with her that involves only me and the hubby. Is that too bad? Am I being the evil daughter?