A hush has fallen over the Home of Crazy (HoC). The Parents of Crazy (PoC) have made their exit.
Overall it was a good visit. It was not a visit without conflict, but one thing about me and my parents is that, well, we've all got pretty strong personalities, and well, conflict can arise from that. It is not easy having them descend on the HoC (which really fits exactly one Crazy and one Man-Kitty quite nicely, but which does not necessarily accommodate the Strong Personalities of the PoC plus the Strong Personalities of Crazy and the Man-Kitty with ease). This is not because we're not close or because there's some Major Problem with us. It is not because there is something Wrong with my relationship with them.
So why is it? Well, one issue that is primary among the reasons for the tensions on this particular visit is that my finals week just ended. I am not done with grading for the semester, and I have not had time to do spring cleaning and to get my life in order in such a fashion that I felt like I wanted visitors - any visitors. That said, I've not seen my parents since Christmas, and I wanted to see them. So I didn't make a fuss when my mom said she wanted to come this weekend (esp. after I told her she couldn't come when I was finishing up the book manuscript), and I just rolled with it. This may have been a mistake, but there you have it. The timing wasn't perfect, but what timing is?
Another issue (and this is often an issue when I see my parents outside their natural habitat) is that they don't let me control what we do on visits. Both are kind of set in their ways, and so I pretty much have to go along with whatever it is they want to do. This is less of an issue when it's just my mom visiting, but when it's both of them, I'm kind of stuck. In this way, it is not like having a friend come to visit, as usually when friends come to visit, they want you to show them a good time and they leave it up to you - or at least up to you in consultation with them. Not so with my parents. When I've tried to treat them like regular visitors, it generally does not work out very well. And so, it's their way or the highway, and I do my best to accommodate that. Why? Because I love my parents, and it's not their fault that they're kind of stick-in-the-mud-y, and it's not my fault that I've educated myself into a range of interests and activities that is not necessarily their cup of tea. Also it's not my fault that I'm single, and so my regular life is wildly different from their regular lives.
So on Friday night I had my BFF over for pizza with my parents, an activity that recalls Friday nights from when I was 15. On Saturday, I accompanied my parents to a flea market and to the outlet mall (which meant approximately 3-4 hours total in the car - with me in the backseat). By the time we reached yesterday afternoon, I had regressed to petulant 15-year-old me, not in the least because I think that I spent the same weekend with these yahoos when I was 15.
So yes, as Dr. Pion noted in a comment yesterday, I'm not necessarily an adult in my relationship with the PoC. This is not because I'm not an adult, or because I've never been an adult in my relationship with them, but I do think it has something to do with a) the particular personalities involved (all bossy, all a little bit crazy - because, yes, I do get it from somewhere) and b) the fact that I'm not in a relationship.
Now, you may question item b above. Why would being in a relationship of my own make so much of a difference? If I'm an adult, why am I not an adult to them or with them just because I'm partnerless? Let's think about this for the moment, shall we?
Once upon a time when I was in a long-term, live-in relationship, things with the PoC were different. Sure, the strong personalities were there, but they respected me as an adult who was in an adult relationship. And, perhaps more importantly, they respected that the person with whom I was in that relationship wouldn't necessarily put up with their crap. When in a relationship, it was possible to relate to my parents as one couple with another, and sure, I was their kid, but I also had this primary relationship that was not my relationship with them. When that relationship ended, so too did this particular version of my relationship with my parents. I became, once again, their "little child." And that's how they see me, whether I've got a career, whether I live on my own, whether I've got a life outside of my relationship with them.
I also had an ally in dealing with them. I had somebody to support me through a visit with them, and somebody there to deflect a bit of the attention off of me. These were good things. I also had somebody to help clean the house before a visit, to help think of things to do (and to suggest those things, and of course my parents wouldn't poo-poo those suggestions because I wasn't the one making them).
When single - and maybe when a single woman? not sure if it's the same with men - they don't see me as an autonomous person. They see me as an extension of them, and they don't quite get the fact that I might want them to treat me as an autonomous person - that I might want them to treat me like I am hosting them as guests in my home. Here's the thing that set off the spat of yesterday evening. I had been drinking a diet coke out of a can. I went into the kitchen with that diet coke when I went to feed the M-K his dinner. My mom followed me into the kitchen, poured out the rest of her diet coke into a glass, and then proceeded to dump my diet coke which I was still drinking into the sink, because she hates it when there are half-full cans of pop lying around. I then looked around for my drink, and it was gone. I know that this is dumb, but it is my house! I can have half-full cans lying around if I want! And it wasn't just lying around - I was drinking it! And so I freaked out. Was this stupid? Obviously. It's not like this was the last can of pop on earth. But after a day in the backseat of the god-damned car, after listening to my mom tell me I looked "chubby" and note the barely visible PMS pimple on my face as if it meant I had pizza-face acne and any number of other things, it was the last straw.
So I freaked out and she freaked out, and then the PoC went off to the casino, and then upon their return my mom and I had a good talk about everything, and so all was well. (Because while we both are of the type that flies off the handle, we also both get over it pretty quickly.) And this morning before they left it was great, and I'm ultimately really glad they came.
Did I handle everything with aplomb? Of course not. Did I act like an immature little punk? Sure. Was I entirely to blame for that? No, I was not. Do they think of me as an adult and treat me with that respect? Not really. But is that really that big of a deal? Nah. It's just how it is, at least for the time being. And if I'm fair, I'd say that I set it up to be this way, too, as sometimes it's nice being their "little child" and having them treat me that way.
But am I happy to have the HoC back? Yes. Am I glad that they won't be coming back for a while? Yes. Do I miss them even having said all that? I do.
So that is the story of my visit with the PoC. And it was good, if not perfect; rejuvenating, if also exhausting. I'll tell you what, though: I'm much more excited for my visit to them in June/July, as the PoC are much easier to handle in their natural habitat :)
1 year ago