This past weekend we baptized Squeak. (And lemme tell you, Squeak is no longer any type of nickname for this child. How about ear-deafening wail?) As per usual, we invited our families to celebrate this milestone with copious amounts of food and fellowship.

But getting some folks to show up was like pulling teeth. And several people didn’t come– for no apparent reason. And it left my feelings really hurt.

I know everyone has lives to attend to, pressing matters, and important things they are juggling. And some of them couldn’t help it– it’s been a rough year.

I know that we’ve have been home a lot, so folks have seen us quite a bit in the last six months.

I get it– I do.

I get it, because the drive from here to my hometown, or here to Hubs’ hometown, is EXACTLY the same distance no matter who’s doing the driving. Which is to say, 70 runs both ways, my peoples.

But my feelings remain hurt, and maybe that makes me a brat.

We really want our children to know their extended family. Living in Kansas, we knew it was going to take some extra effort to make that happen. We simply don’t live down the street from the kids’ grandparents, aunts, and uncles– and we never will. We knew when we settled here that there were going to be long drives and many phone calls.

Lately, for whatever reasons, it seems like we are making the lion’s share of the effort in that. We are the ones who load up the van with too much stuff and three kids and drive 5 hours across the state. We are the ones who make the phone calls home. We are the ones left making pathetic excuses to the kids when someone stands them up.

There are several members of our family that have not been here since Squeak was born. He is over 7 months old. There are some who haven’t even been here in the last year. In the time that they have not been here, they have been all over the country– all over the world– for visits and vacations.

But not here.

And it gets harder and harder not to take it personally.

Because it seems like they don’t realize that us traveling there is no more convenient– that we have lives, too.

Because it feels like they don’t care that they don’t know our amazing beautiful children.

Because it seems like everything else is more important.

Because it feels like I’m not– we’re not– good enough to be considered.

I’m fiercely proud of what we’re building here– our home, our family, our life– and to have parts of our family take so little interest in that is disheartening at times. I feel like we are doing our part to make sure that they feel included in that life, but we can’t MAKE them care. We can’t make them show up. We can’t make up for their lack of effort.

There are some members of our family who really know the kids, and have spent a lot of time with them. The way the kids interact with those family members is vastly different. The fullness of those relationships is evident.

There is a part of me that says, “you know what? It is what it is and it is THEIR LOSS. THEY are missing out on knowing your kids.” And that part of me knows that my children’s lives are still full of plenty of people who love them.

But there’s another part of me, a petulant whiney part, that says, “this is NOT FAIR. Why can’t my kids be important? Why can’t they put in the effort? Why does it have to be so one-sided? Why do I have to ask them to CARE?”

I know I shouldn’t take it so personally. Chances are, it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with other folks’ choices. But it is days like yesterday, when our home is full of love and family and friends, that the absence of who is missing is most palpable. Those are the days when I think, “So-and-So is really missing out. Because this was a beautiful day.”