At some point in adulthood, I began to feel like a parent to my parents. They’re still young, only in their very early 60’s, but as I’ve aged I’ve begun to feel more and more protective towards them and frustrated by some of their decision making.
My mother retired a few years ago, but my father still works long hours as a school administrator. My mother has thrown herself into community college classes (French, Spanish, jewelry-making) and sporting activities (archery, swimming). My father loves to zoom around in his “midlife crisis Mustang” and plan exotic trips that the two of them take during his Spring Break. Australia, China, Spain- they’ll go anywhere. They’re enjoying being empty nesters and really move to their own beat these days.
As parents, they were very structured. Rules were important in our house and they weren’t to be questioned. My brothers and I were to be home by a certain time, conduct ourselves with carefully taught good manners, and show respect to our parents. Under their tutelage, I grew up to be an ambitious, career-oriented adult, one who carefully schedules every aspect of my day and never makes rash, irresponsible choices. However, as soon as my brothers and I were out of the house, things started to change for my parents. They no longer lived by soccer schedules and family mealtimes. They did as they pleased. My Mom sometimes flits off with her friends and forgets to return phone calls for days. She doesn’t keep a calendar and never plans things in advance. Getting in touch with her and pinning down dates for family parties is often an exercise in frustration for me. Now I finally see the free spirit she must have been in her 1970s Berkeley days. And it’s maddening.
My father is easy to reach (at his desk) and still the same rational, practical man he has always been. However, the other day he called me up and asked me if I knew how safe Nairobi was these days. When I told him I had no idea (but that I was pretty sure it was on a travel advisory list), he launched into a story about how he’d just booked flights to Nairobi next Spring and needed to figure out how he and my mother could then hop a bus to Tanzania. I had a mild panic attack, picturing my clueless parents wandering around Nairobi in the middle of the night with their luggage, tempting fate in every possible way. I am now arranging the rest of their trip for them.
As I plan our family events and organize my parents’ vacations, I wonder how I came to be the one in charge of everything. Is it because I’m the oldest, the most responsible, or simply the only one who worries? My parents are thoroughly enjoying their less structured lives, but this change has turned me into the ringleader of family gatherings and decision making. As I leave my mother voice mails, reminding her that this is the third one I’ve left and would she please call me this time, I wonder how I suddenly have become the parent-like figure; the worrier, the scheduler, the one with all the rules.
Rosebud
Seriously, I think we’re the same person! My father moved in with my husband and I a month after we got married. We’ve had to coach him on everything– table manners, dating, haircuts and clothing, travel. I swear he didn’t seem this clueless when I was growing up.