My mom is coming to town today and I’m thrilled that she’ll be here though Mother’s Day (‘cause that means there’s a good chance I won’t forget to call her this year!) Oksana and I have spent the whole week in a suitable state of mind. That is to say, we’ve been freaking out.
Oksana, as expected, has that we’ve-got-to-clean-the-house-because-oh-my-God-your-mother-is-going-to-SEE-it mentality. And I, for the most part, agree with her. If my mom and stepfather are going to be spending a few days with us, I want them to be comfortable. And by comfortable, I mean: Not preoccupied with the way we live.
You know what? Thinking back… I do believe this is the very first time my mother has ever come to stay with me since I moved out of the house (for good) ten years ago. Why is it that it can feel so natural for us offspring to return to the nest, and yet at the same time feel strange when the parent role-reverses on us?
I don’t know, but I’m sure glad my mom never stayed with me when I was living in my dorm. Or in the trailer. Man, I really should get serious about buying a nice, respectable house.
I’ll get back to that tomorrow.