May 21, 2006

You're Not Getting Older, You've Always Been Old

I attended a two-day seminar this weekend. Of course I was totally exhausted after the end of each day of lectures and demonstrations, but was prepared to start my week armed with a ton of new knowledge and pumped with motivation. All was well in my little corner of the universe. Until …

Boyfriend got a call from Faux-Ma this afternoon. Faux-Ma told her son that Faux-Pa wasn’t able to attend some funeral this past weekend because he had stomach problems. Hmmm. He wasn’t able to attend Easter dinner at our house because of stomach problems. Another episode of Munchaphobia? (See Axis II, 04/23/06.)

Because of Faux-Pa’s recent (and obviously recurring) stomach problems, Faux-Ma hasn’t made the restaurant reservations for Faux-Pa’s upcoming birthday celebration schedule for this coming Friday. She asked Boyfriend, if and when she makes those reservations, would 6:30 be okay? I ask you, have you ever known a person over the age of sixty to dine at 6:30? When we go to a restaurant with the Fauxs, we are always sitting down at our table by 5:00, sometimes sooner. Now she wants to make reservations for 6:30. By the end of his conversation with his mother, Boyfriend was absolutely sure that his father is suffering from an invasion of some rare South African parasite in his colon and that his mother has completely lost her mind.

Am I prepared to face the aging-parents phase of my life? While my parents are clearly not as insane as Boyfriend’s (he begs to differ), the inevitability of confiscating drivers’ licenses and choosing nursing homes is somewhat daunting. Will I be able to distinguish plaques and tangles from evil mind games? After they lay down for the big dirt nap, will I feel never-ending guilt over all the nasty things I’ve said and thought about these parents? When they’re finally gone, will life be easier, or lonelier?

I’m going to pull a Scarlet O’Hara and think about it tomorrow. As of this moment, all is as it should be in the parental arena of my life. My parents drive me crazy, even though I know they love me to pieces. Boyfriend’s parents continue their games of Medical Twenty Questions and How Can We Get Them To Pay More Attention To Us Without Begging. Life is good.

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