30 minus 3 days!

So yesterday's post started my love-fest.  And today it continues.  With?  Duh-da-da-da!  

Reason #3

I - finally - get along with my family.  I couldn't have made that statement ten years ago.  Heck, not even 5 years ago, probably.

My Dad is my pal (and really, he always has been) and he talks to me about business like an equal.  That's pretty freakin' cool since he's been "the man" for a huge oil and gas company.  He, too, owns his own business and talks to me about how to market better, and asks me for help with project drafting.  I love that I'm a resource to my Dad!

My sister and I talk like friends now.  Sure, we have the common denominator of having the same parents, but we talk about other stuff too.  She tells me about her work (I was the FIRST person she called when she delivered her first baby a couple of years ago - I'll never forget; I was walking out of the Bellagio in Las Vegas) and she teaches me stuff.  She's amazing.  She's a nurse, a labor and delivery nurse to be specific, and she knows stuff. Like stuff, stuff.  She knows when a fetus is officially viable (I'm pretty sure its 20 weeks), and she knows what NICU stands for (Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit, I'm pretty sure). She's not grossed out by... gulp... vagina's (ew... I even hate typing that word) and she knows how to give people needles. Do you know what that means?  That means she can actually find a vein, a tiny freakin' vein, and put a needle in it. That's INSANE! Suffice it to say, that despite all the ups and downs of sisterhood, my sister absolutely amazes me.

And my Mum. Oh, Mum. We finally figured it out. It took about 28 years for us to get it right, but I think we did. Quick... where's some wood... *knock knock* Growing up we used to fight something awful.  Dad said it was because we're so much alike. And you know what? We are! And damned if I'm not proud as punch to be like my Mum. Hubband calls me Katie when he sees me act like my Mum (which is appropriate since her name is Katie - I'd be concerned if he called me Sharon). And I think I'm finally making my Mum proud. It's not something that parents tell their kids often (or perhaps as often as we feel we need to hear it) but every so often, I know she's really proud of me. And that makes me proud.

Sigh... how's that for something to celebrate? Sure, we're a small family, but we're getting it right. I love that we all need one another, even though I'm a grown up.  

Are you sick of all this happiness yet? Ready for Reason #2?