One does not simply start blogging.

Actually, yes they do! Or rather, she does! I do!

My parents are driving south for the winter, leaving this weekend. I talk to my Mom on the phone quite a bit when they are in the same country as me, but not very much when they are away. I find it hard to believe I have reached the age where my parents need me as much as I need them. But here we are.

My parents need me to be around. By that I mean, they need emails, phone calls, Skype when they’re away, and they need to visit me, usually for 2 weeks at a time. I’m not going to sugar-coat this next statement: Their long visits usually drive me insane at some point. If I were Tara (in United States of Tara), I would for sure transition whenever my parents visit.

First, the positives: they fix little things around the house that we would never get around to doing; they help with the kids’ stuff (activities, food, discipline); they re-organize whatever drawers or shelves need it; they clean; they pick up after themselves; and they don’t need to be constantly entertained or monitored.

Now for the negatives. They are few but significant: we have a small house (I might have mentioned this before), so having 2 adult overnight guests is a big deal; we have 1 bathroom; my mother hears every conversation around her except for the one she is directly involved in; all of which results in a severe lack of privacy. A veritable privacy drought. Also I feel like I need to occasionally reassure her that we are ok financially. I think all parents who grew up in a small town and still live in one are horrified at the real estate prices and general cost of living in a city. My mother-in-law just about shits when she watches any real estate reality shows based in Toronto. This reaction is hilarious for me to watch.

Oh the guilt that arises from these thoughts like a vapour. I am actually very grateful and I thank my parents all the time for things they do for my family and I. I like having my Mom around to have conversations in person, go for walks, watch Wheel of Fortune, and play euchre. She’s very pleasant. Did also mention she is a good cook and excellent baker? My stepkids look forward to her visits partly because they know there will be good shizz in the fridge.

Holy crap, I am going to bother my kids like this some day. I’m so uncool, so imposing, so nosy, so…whatever is annoying at the time. I won’t be able to understand the brain implants everyone has, nor the communication devices inserted into their hands. I’ll say I remember the days when houses cost a mere 700K.

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