Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Parenting my...parents?

Seriously folks, you'd think that after years of drilling into my head that it is common courtesy to call someone when you're running late, or plans change, etc. that my parents would call me for important family events. Examples of past family events where I wasn't immediately notified include the death of my favorite grandmother and the birth of my first niece. You're kidding me! you say??? So not kidding. My parents had what seemed to them amazing reasons for not letting me know right away, but the fact remains is that they didn't call me. Obviously, this pisses me off beyond belief, and being the petty bitch that I can be sometimes when my mom and I are at each other's throats, I throw it in her face. Which I did today, when no one answered the damned phone at their house this morning. Usually not a big deal, except today was the day that my dad was having his heart looked at to see what is wrong with it. As in being cut open. As in could be not a big deal but could be huge. All I wanted to do was tell my dad that it was going to be okay and that I wish I could have been there, and I love you. Fast forward to cell phones finally being turned on, my dad in his hospital gown waiting to be taken to the meat locker of the operating room, and he answers his cell phone. I told him what I wanted to tell him, and also told him that I wished that I could have told him while he was still at home. My dad is either the most oblivious man alive or the coolest cucumber, I can't tell which, and he was fine. mom called. FANTASTIC. At this point, I don't even want to talk to her. Of course, I started crying and read her the riot act about not answering the phone, bla bla bla...and I realized that I was talking to her like she was my child. And then it hit me that I do this often. Am I transitioning into that time of life where my parents start to need to be taken care of, at least emotionally? I'm so not ready for that. I think that's why this relatively routine procedure freaked me out so bad - I'M still supposed to be the kid, not the other way around. Sure, I'm in my 30s. Sure, I have a husband and kids of my own. But to have my parents need me like that? No... it's just not possible. Is it?

In other news, Quinn brought me a book to read while I was in the bathroom today. How considerate! See, he's taking care of me already. Lord have mercy. He also had his first pizza tonight and proceeded to run around the house like the spawn of the Tasmanian Devil. He came to a screeching halt when he noticed that I was putting the guards on the cable box, DVD player, and the tv buttons. Just wait until he sees the toilet lock. Mom - 1, toddler - 0. I love winning.

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