Every Sunday morning, I call my parents. It is our agreed upon time to talk once a week. They can call me during the week, but only if it's something serious. This rule was lovingly enacted to prevent my mother from calling me during the week to ask if I still used Degree deodorant - "because it's on sale this week." (This is just an example. Other examples include: "what was your friend's name who went to that school in Boston?" and "when do you come home again?")
I know. I'm cursed with terribly loving parents. Life is rough.
The Sunday chats, as they are known, have grown increasingly important over the years. Some weeks, I leave more concerned about my parents' fate than ever before. (They clearly need a babysitter over there.) Some weeks, I leave more refreshed and feel more loved than I ever have before.
The Sunday chats are what you could call a 'good with the bad' kind of thing. For example, it depends on how we all slept the night before. It could be real rough if one of us gets on the phone before he has his coffee (Ahem, me. Ahem, Dad.) It could also be less than fun if someone is sick, feels a sickness coming on, or saw someone at work sneeze. But, having said that, it can also be totally funny when the jokes get cracking. (This week's best joke: My mother was worried about me taking a sightseeing bike tour, saying I hadn't been on a bike in quite some time. I asked her is she had ever heard the saying, 'it's like riding a bicycle," much to my mother's quiet laugh. I know what you're thinking. The jokes get pretty wild!)
These chats started some time around when I had moved to the Washington D.C. area back in 2002. They would happen in frequently as I worked in retail and had a constantly changing work schedule. Eventually, in 2006, I found office work in New York and the chats found their regular home on Sunday mornings. This would be the time my parents where news would be shared, concerns over each other voiced, and always ending with the same question: "So, what are you doing today?"
After at least 7 years of steady chats, I started to reflect upon them. I wish I had recorded some of them. I wish I recorded all of them. It's a diary entry in the purest form: simple dialogue.
My parents are, in a sense, my friends. They know most things about me (mostly because I am a terrible liar.) They know my fears, they know my goals and they know my passions - all because I share them. Unabashedly.
Often, though, the calls digress into their petulant son pushing them to change. A few years back, I won the battle for one of them to get a debit card, which Mom now loves. ("It's saved me so much because I don't have to ordering new checks!," Mom recently said.) Granted, they only got the Debit card/ATM card because they were going to Ireland and I told them they wouldn't have to get traveler's checks. ATMs would give them cash at the daily exchange rate. And they wouldn't have to worry about losing any checks. My logic made sense, I guess. (Greg - 1. Parents - 8,954)
Sometimes, I feel like the chats have a reverse effect that way. The child parents the parent. Not in any real sense, but there have been times where I have definitely enlightened them. Dad will tell me about his dinner the night before and I will stress the importance of adding green vegetables to his plate. There's always a lot of soups and potatoes in these stories. (Dad loves to tell me about when he eats out for dinner. The man likes a restaurant and likes to talk about it. Is that so wrong?)
In a way, I am grateful to have this kind of relationship with the two folks who raised me. It's more conversational and easy. I feel I have truly gotten to know my parents as the people they are, rather than the people I think they are. Some of my friends don't have this kind of relationship with their parents and it makes me feel sad. To be my age and not have an open dialogue with my parents would feel like a missed opportunity.
I still regard them as my parents. I don't call up and say,"Hey Bruce, how's it hanging?" (Mostly because I will never use the expression "how's it hanging" ever in my life time.) Instead, these chats just show how natural they truly are. It always felt wrong to me when parents break down the difference between child and parent. There's a reason why someone is the adult. The "cool" parents when you are young weren't necessarily "good" parents. I don't remember ever really respecting those who let their kids drink "because they were going to do it any way."We had alcoholics in my family so I knew my parents were only trying to protect me. They were the adults in the situation.
Even though we are now all adults, there are things I still learn from them and will continue to do. And, like I said, it's reciprocal. What started as an obligation for a kid in his early 20s to call home and check in turned into a fun and weekly event. I still limit it to once a week. Why ruin a good thing? Besides, Mom now has email to ask me if I still use Degree deodorant.
Another excellent post!
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