Monday, January 09, 2012

Mom and dad flew in to my sister's place in NJ on December 23^rd, where I have been since the 10th,  for Xmas, Devyn’s birth and my sister’s 36^th birthday.  They left on January 6^th.

I just don’t know how other grown families do it.  Mine should not be allowed to gather in one spot, at the same time, for more than 24 hours.  We’re either too much alike or too different.  We project and we regress.  We react and forget to introspect.  We are too loud and too quiet at the same time.  We are passive aggressive.  There is WAY too much food.  We are rude.  We are wildly dysfunctional.  We are…….family.

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Devyn Rose Sparrer took charge and broke her own fetal sack during my sister’s pre-C-Section preparatory hospital visit on 12/27 (she was scheduled for 12/28 at 1:00 pm).  My dad had accompanied my sister just to get out of the house and stretch his legs.  According to my sister, the look on Dad’s face was priceless when she told him her water broke.  Kind of wide, saucer shaped eyes with a weird tilt to his neck.  He became the reluctant supporter with hospital admission, monitor hook-up and so forth until my brother in law could arrive on the scene.

Dad called to tell me to collect her suitcase and the baby’s cord blood package and bring these items, and mom, to the hospital.  I didn’t understand one word he said.  My sister had to get on the phone and translate.  I think dad’s going to remember this episode for a while (if a stroke is actually ruled out).  Mom said Dad didn’t spend this amount of time with the delivery of his own children.  What a gift for this first time grandpa!

At 6:34 pm on 12/27/11 our families welcomed this first child.  Seven pounds, 15 ounces, and 22 inches long Devyn Rose in one fell swoop created a mother, a father, an aunt, an uncle, two sets of grandparents and one great grandmother.  We all behaved ourselves. It was a very good day for family.

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My sister and her husband took some of those parenting classes to understand what to do when Devyn arrived.  I want to take some classes to understand what to do with the old people who have arrived in my parents’ bodies.  Who are these folks?  Where are my parents?

I realize being gone for 26 years in no way helped me to know my parents.  And I left so early that I didn’t really complete the adult child-to-parent relationship transformation that my friends experienced with their folks.  Seems my relationship with my folks froze in my mid 20s.  And now I’m pissed off because whatever it is that we DO have isn’t working so well.  Guess who is 50% responsible?

I am stomping my foot in a tantrum of denial.  Intellectually I know my folks have developed limitations as the natural part of aging.  Poor eye sight and hearing, sore joints, slow movement, forgetfulness, etc.  Emotionally, however, I am expecting them to be the same as they were when I left.  When did they start being so messy?  What’s with all the drama getting into and out of the car?  Where is their energy? Why must I repeat myself?  I have no sympathy nor compassion because I have not yet accepted their reality.  Mommy and daddy are gone.  Gramma and gramps are here. 

And guess what?  They’re pissed off, too.  Mom said one day that in her head she still feels 25 so imagine her disconnect with an aging body.  Once she mentioned to me that that it is still a shock to look into the mirror and see her wrinkled face. (OMG I’m starting to do that!)  Dad is struggling with the dread “ARTHUR” and low vision yet he still acts 25 and scares the hell out of all of us with his various activities.

My folks raised us kids to be very independent.  So much so we have difficulty asking for help.  Now here they are losing their independence by no choice of their own, fighting dependence every step of the way and having difficulty asking for help.  And here I am caught in the middle of wanting to help yet wanting NOT to help.  Like not helping will make them younger and spry, turn back the clock a bit, make me not so damn scared.  I am an idiot.

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My dad is a HUGE Brooklyn Bridge aficionado.  We have gifted him books, DVDs, and even Brooklyn Bridge clothing to help satisfy his enthusiasm.  My sister even arranged part of her NYC wedding day family photo shoot to include the Brooklyn Bridge in the background.  So, of course, when I escorted dad into the CITY to Fraunce’s Tavern and the revolutionary war museum, we capped the day off with a visit to The Bridge.  He shared with me how it was built, how long it took and what an incredible feat it was at the time.  Since his vision is failing, it was most poignant for me to be there with him.  He likely won’t see it again.

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I checked New Year’s Eve in NYC off my bucket list.

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Mom and dad are prepping and may have already left Omaha to drive to Florida and enjoy four months on Pine Island, a place where the fishing is good and dogs are allowed, FL.  They have never rented a place in one spot for this long.  They have RV’d for months yet this is the first time to vacation in one place with no worries of water and toilet hookups.

Mom has been writing out her 3x5 card lists for about a year now, she is so excited.  At Xmas they announced that they are hitching dad’s box trailer to the Suburban and are hauling down mom’s Miata so they have a smaller car to drive around (think red convertible, wind in the hair, etc.).  Mom’s thrilled because there is more room now to take more stuff.

We children are worried.  If you will recall, DAD CAN’T SEE WELL.  Just the other day dad was driving my sister around (C-Section, no drive for two weeks) and she exclaimed to mom that dad has no depth perception and should not be driving…especially with a trailer attached to a Suburban to Florida. To which mom replied, “I will help drive, we will not be driving at night.”  To which dad added that mom “forgets” that she has a trailer behind her and that scares him.

Since we do not tell our folks what to do (familiar with the term riot act?), we are praying that no innocent bystanders are taken out on their trip to Florida.

Meanwhile, I have the house to myself for four months and I WILL have that kegger.

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It is my sole intention during these next four months to find a job and move out of my parents’ house.  The job markets have opened up a great deal in Atlanta and New York City.  Omaha, not so much.  Actually, not at all.  *sigh*  I prefer to stay in Omaha for the time being yet I must go where there is work for me.  My age, depth of experience and specialization is no longer a good thing.  BUT, that Omaha is a relatively inexpensive place to live IS a good thing.  If I must flip burgers, I may still be able to afford a place of my own.  My EGO will be shot, but at least I will be back on my own.

I finish up my visit to NJ as The Help this Thursday.  Next I drive to Gatlinburg for some southern women, girls’ weekend bonding.  Then, back to the Big O.