Had a conversation with the group people last night and we talked about parents, mothers mostly. This got me thinking about something I had written in 2008. It doesn’t really capture how I feel about them as people. Its more about when I realized they were getting older.
I love my parents. I always will. They make me crazy though, and I don’t know what to do with my feelings about them. I struggle with having genuine love for them, yet wanting to keep them at arms length. {shrugs}
The truth about Mom and Dad... Sunday, January 13, 2008
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Life
Remember when your parents knew everything? Remember when they were the strongest, the smartest and the most handsome or beautiful? I remember that. The long and short of it is that my parents are getting old. Thems be the facts baby.
I look at my father, my charming, and life of the party Papi. Now with white hair, white beard, old man stoop, arthritic hands and a satchel full of heart medicine. Case in point, I had to zip up my dad’s jacket the other day. Talk about full circle. He used to zip up my jacket. We were in Target during the Christmas Holiday and I saw my dad shuffling ahead me…I went over and gave me him a push. Papi…stand up straight, Papi pick up your feet. My ferocious father is slowing down. It makes me sad.
I look at my mother, my beautiful, oh so glamorous Mom. Mom who is developing fat pockets under her eyes, hopelessly; obviously dyed hair and random age spots. And just between you and me, she is become unbelievably annoying. Constantly asking me questions…April can you? April did you? April you should…April you shouldn’t… April why do you always…blah blah blah. The other day I swear I wanted to not only tell her to shut up…but I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. That’s never good.
I’ve taken to having to tell them how to dress. Papi- why are you wearing the house slippers with socks OUTSIDE? Ummmm Mom? You are not Paris Hilton… you can’t wear the slip dress with no bra.
My parents used to go to Studio 54 and Copacabana. Now, it’s early bird specials and the matinee. Unbelievable.
I took my father to the doctor the other day. That was something.
Doctor: so Joel how long have you had this problem with your hands?
Dad: Oh about 6 months?
Me: Um excuse me? No… about 2 years now… at least
Dad: Yeah?
Me: Yes.
This went on and on for the entire visit. The doctor asking him questions, him giving these fictitious answers and me jumping in. My consensus is that now, someone has to go with him every time he had a doctor’s visit. He can’t be trusted.
Forget about asking them for advice. I look at the way they have lived their lives and feel like they need just as much help as I do. They no longer have all the answers, I realized long ago that probably never did. Our parents are human, and therefore fallible. But it’s always such a let down to really realize it for the truth that it is.
I love my parents. And when the time comes I will take care of them, no doubt about it, and no questions asked. The issue is more that I don’t ever want them to need me to have to do it for them, because they can no longer do it for themselves.
I suppose it is inevitable.
I love my parents. I always will. They make me crazy though, and I don’t know what to do with my feelings about them. I struggle with having genuine love for them, yet wanting to keep them at arms length. {shrugs}
The truth about Mom and Dad... Sunday, January 13, 2008
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Life
Remember when your parents knew everything? Remember when they were the strongest, the smartest and the most handsome or beautiful? I remember that. The long and short of it is that my parents are getting old. Thems be the facts baby.
I look at my father, my charming, and life of the party Papi. Now with white hair, white beard, old man stoop, arthritic hands and a satchel full of heart medicine. Case in point, I had to zip up my dad’s jacket the other day. Talk about full circle. He used to zip up my jacket. We were in Target during the Christmas Holiday and I saw my dad shuffling ahead me…I went over and gave me him a push. Papi…stand up straight, Papi pick up your feet. My ferocious father is slowing down. It makes me sad.
I look at my mother, my beautiful, oh so glamorous Mom. Mom who is developing fat pockets under her eyes, hopelessly; obviously dyed hair and random age spots. And just between you and me, she is become unbelievably annoying. Constantly asking me questions…April can you? April did you? April you should…April you shouldn’t… April why do you always…blah blah blah. The other day I swear I wanted to not only tell her to shut up…but I wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up. That’s never good.
I’ve taken to having to tell them how to dress. Papi- why are you wearing the house slippers with socks OUTSIDE? Ummmm Mom? You are not Paris Hilton… you can’t wear the slip dress with no bra.
My parents used to go to Studio 54 and Copacabana. Now, it’s early bird specials and the matinee. Unbelievable.
I took my father to the doctor the other day. That was something.
Doctor: so Joel how long have you had this problem with your hands?
Dad: Oh about 6 months?
Me: Um excuse me? No… about 2 years now… at least
Dad: Yeah?
Me: Yes.
This went on and on for the entire visit. The doctor asking him questions, him giving these fictitious answers and me jumping in. My consensus is that now, someone has to go with him every time he had a doctor’s visit. He can’t be trusted.
Forget about asking them for advice. I look at the way they have lived their lives and feel like they need just as much help as I do. They no longer have all the answers, I realized long ago that probably never did. Our parents are human, and therefore fallible. But it’s always such a let down to really realize it for the truth that it is.
I love my parents. And when the time comes I will take care of them, no doubt about it, and no questions asked. The issue is more that I don’t ever want them to need me to have to do it for them, because they can no longer do it for themselves.
I suppose it is inevitable.
Such a thought provoking post. I loved my dad and as for my mom--well, it was something different, but the truth is--I miss them both now that they're gone. I think we have such high expectations of parents, that we miss out on who they really are and a lot of other potentially special moments. I have found that forgiveness (both of them and myself) has been important. Enjoy them as much as possible, because while you can.
ReplyDeleteEJ- Thanks for stopping by. My relationship with my folks is complex. I love them, I just would like to keep it neat and tidy. I'm sure I'll write more about it as time goes on.
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