An illustrative example of my relationship with my parents is the time I brought my first report card home from college - I got a mix of A's, B's and C's in the 17 credit hours of courses my first semester as an engineering major. My Mom expressed her grave disappointment that I didn't get straight A's, and my Dad exclaimed, "Holy shit, you PASSED CALCULUS?!? On your FIRST TRY?!?" So yeah, that about sums it up. I can do no right in my Mom's eyes - she has decided for the last two decades that I've consistently been a raging alcoholic despite all the evidence to the contrary. When he was still quite young, she told my nephew that I was the biggest failure of her life, to which he shot back, "If Aunt Laura is a failure, I want to fail like her when I grow up." Sharp kid, that one.
Let's dissect that a little bit. My failures include being the first of their three daughters to earn an advanced degree despite being the youngest by far, consistently owning houses with a single income, getting promoted at work regularly, achieving a 6 digit income in my early 30s, and sustaining a committed relationship for 10 years. But what she sees is that I've never been married (even though my relationships last longer than most marriages), that I've decided to leave the church (which I actually brought her to in the first place), and the previously mentioned hallucinated alcoholism and real failure to earn straight A's.
My Dad, on the other hand, seems to suffer from a lack of like-minded people to talk to, and so he spills his guts whenever an understanding ear, like mine, is around. I left a professional organization we were previously both major contributors to because the drama became too much for me, but he can't wait to fill me in on all the drama I literally tried to erase from my life. He'll ask me about work and then lecture me on all the things he thinks I don't understand, even though I understand them far better than he ever could in a lot of ways. He complains about my family, and especially my Mom. He picks fights with her that could just be left alone. It's clear she's a constant irritation to him, and yet, he probably needs that for his own amusement, since he has completely failed at retiring well and he needs something to keep his constantly turning mind occupied, and his ego inflated.
While I could go on, I've already digressed from where I want to go with this post, so I'll suffice it to say my parents can be taxing and visits from them trigger anxiety like few other things in life can. So when my Dad alerted me to plans of their desire to drive to Texas and stay a couple days with me and then visit his brother a few hours away, I wasn't exactly stoked but also figured it was obligatory so they could see my new house. And I was looking forward to seeing my Uncle because I could probably count on one hand the times I've seen him but he and my Dad are kind of hilarious together.
Here's what I want to get to. Despite my anxiety and general malaise towards a visit from my parents, I think I actually played it exceedingly well! My Dad likes to hear his own voice and often interrupts people (me) only to tell me a story I've heard 14 times before. Over the holiday at the end of last year, this attribute had gotten on my nerves so much that I boiled over and started pretty blatantly criticizing him for it. He even tried to tell me the same story one afternoon which had had told me that morning, and when I pointed that fact out, he was incredulous and argued with me that he couldn't have possibly said all those same things and made all those exact observations just hours before. He and my Mom are getting up there in age and there's a very real possibility that they are losing their marbles. I had also suggested that, since he had lost his way three times while I was there, maybe he should use the Google Maps app on his phone, just as a backup for when he gets confused. I got a scoff and a stern mocking in response. Ok, Dad.
Anyways, this time around, when my Dad started telling the same stories, I would tell him that yep, I remember that one. And I got a little sarcastic with him. Whenever I had a really witty comeback, two things would happen. My Mom would giggle from whatever corner she was in. It occurred to me that this is probably very therapeutic for her, since he is so critical of her constantly, and she's just never been that sharp to begin with, and is definitely not clever enough to come back at him.
So me beating him in a game of wits thrilled her in a rare appreciation of me and my sense of humor. The other thing that happened was that my Dad would initially take offense which quickly dissipated into sheer pride at how quick witted and clever his baby girl is. So by bashing my Dad, both my parents seemed much happier and much prouder of me than, like, ever. Weird. I may have gotten short with my Dad once or twice during the stay, but overall, we had somewhat productive conversations to plan our trip to Japan, decide on what to do for them to replace cable TV, and teach him some app stuff on his phone. All in all, a pretty successful visit at my place. They enjoyed going to the Stockyards and eating the Texan food I introduced them to, and they approved of the area I live in and what I've done with my house. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, as they say. For the 2.5 hour drive to the restaurant at which we planned to meet up with my Aunt and Uncle, and my Aunt's son and grandson, we took two cars since I would be leaving on Sunday and my parents would head back to Arizona from there on Monday. My Mom announced she'd ride with me so that we could chat, since my Dad dominates the conversation. The latter is true, but my Mom is not known to be very chatty. In fact, her lack of conversating is a point of frequent criticism from my Dad. But then, I can't say I enjoy conversing with her either, and usually anything substantial is random and uninteresting. On rare occasions, she lectures about something she knows nothing about and has no business asserting her opinions on. All of these possibilities starting running through my head as we loaded up the cars and she got in my passenger seat.
We made it about 25 minutes down the road in complete silence with the radio on. Then she started, "So, the thing I wanted to talk to you about…" and paused. All I could think is heeeeeeere we go! What is about to come out of her mouth? She then went on to talk about a concern she has for my sister, and explained this whole background information that wasn't necessary, referencing people whose names I can barely recall from the church we attended when I was 4 and younger. But of all the things I would have expected, it was definitely far less painful than what I imagined. When she finished telling me what was on her mind, I wasn't sure how to move the conversation forward. I asked her if she was seeking my advice, or if she was wanting me to have the tough love conversation she was referring to, or what she was looking for. She retorted much more quickly than her usual response time with, "No, I'm having this conversation." Alright, then what? You want my advice? My support? Just for me to know? And she didn't really have anything to say. So I went ahead and took that as an opening to give her my advice, which I did. And that was it. Silence for the remaining hour and change until we arrived at the restaurant. I survived!
We were early, so naturally, my Dad made a complete fool of himself trying to secure seats until the other party arrived. But I finally secured my first alcoholic drink since my parents' arrival, and we had a great view of the lake, and I didn't give a crap about anything anymore. My weekend obligations to my parents were almost completely fulfilled at this point, and I survived without losing my mind. Life is good!
There was plenty of drama, to be sure, including the detail I skipped earlier about the fact that my parents, using Google Maps but accidentally punching in the wrong address somehow, ended up two hours away before realizing they had gone in the wrong direction, and were therefore almost three hours late to arriving at my house. If only I hadn't taught them to use Google Maps, right? My bad.
The funniest outtake from the weekend was on the last night in my house, my Mom had gone to bed and my Dad and I stayed up talking. We got on the topic of the plan for the following day, and I suggested we go to a very southern comfort food style restaurant for breakfast or brunch, to which my Dad was agreeable. Just to be sure, I offered other suggestions, including a donut shop that locals are obsessed with, fast food drive through, or my plant-based ramen which they had previously enjoyed. My Dad said those were all good options with the exception of donuts. They like donuts, he said, and they do splurge a little on travel, but they draw the line at donuts. They try to stay somewhat healthy while traveling, and donuts was just a bit too far out of the question. So with a plan, we headed to bed. The next morning, when my Mom got up, we told her the proposed plan and let her know the other options, including the ramen, but I didn't mention the donuts since that had been definitively shot down. She definitively shot down the ramen for breakfast, and we settled on the original suggestion of the southern restaurant. Are you ready for the punchline? We sit down and this very country place and pop open the menus. They have eggs every way you could make them, omelets, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, you name it. Right up my parents' alley! The waitress came to take our order and my Mom asked for... donuts!
But what prompted me to write about these things is that my boss, with a great memory and genuine curiosity about my strange life, had recalled that my parents visited last week and asked how that had gone. And as I reflected what details I shared with him, I realized the absolute 
absurdity of this accomplishment: I had kept my wits about me through the weekend by cleverly knocking my Dad down a few notches, which served as comedic therapy for my Mom and raised my Dad's admiration of me. My Mom laughing and my Dad beaming with pride at my witty comebacks and clever banter is what I've been groomed from childhood to do, and was probably too nice to use it before. But with my give-a-shit's fresh out from last year's holiday, it turns out that's actually what I should have been doing all along!
