Keep Them Doggies Rollin'

So, my Mom is very excited about my moving back home. Though I will not be living with them, she does consider home to be anywhere within the province since at least then she'll see me more than twice in 22 months. She's so excited that she even made plans to drive to Saskatchewan with her pick-up truck so that she could help me take my junk back home.

Though I did find this to be a strange request, I did recognize the fact that things are often very strange within my family, and the things that we do are not necessarily the things that other families do. My Mom had planned to stay with long-time friends of hers in Thunder Bay and in Winnipeg. I figured, "Makes sense, then, to drive out to help me. She can have some fun at two convenient stops along the way."

And so my 64 year old mother began her journey across three provinces and over 3000 kms (one way).

Until she reached Nipigon where she fell asleep at the wheel, drove into the ditch, and rolled the truck numerous times.

Don't worry, she's fine. She has a few cuts and some friction burns from the seatbelt. I spoke to her tonight and she's as talkative as usual. She had that sound in her voice which is the vocal expression of a feeling that I know all too well: how to deal with the shit situation once you're already knee deep.

She's got to deal with insurance and rentals, and some totally twisted notion that she's got in her head that she still has to make it to Saskatchewan to move my pine desk and overpriced couch. She also has to figure out the best way to tell my father what has happened. He's used to hearing about his daughter trashing his car, but not his wife. (The truck is a complete write off, needless to say but that is neither here nor there.)

I would just like to say, for the record, that I was extremely hesitant to have my mother attempt the drive. She's my mother after all, and my mother should not be driving for 4 days to help me move a few boxes, period. I am, however, right smack dab in the middle of a changing mindset: I am now the one that worries about my parents.

It is something that I've been thinking about for a few months now, but until today I failed to fully realize that my parents are now my responsibility. In exactly the same way that they believed that I am/was their responsibility. Now I have to help them be happy for the remaining years of their lives. I am the one who will worry when they don't call on Sunday. I am the one who will have to speak to rude salespeople. I am the one who has to be there to make sure that the contractor doesn't rip them off. I am the one who will patch up cuts, with a kiss to make it better. I am the adult now.

That is a frightening thought. Can I really do this? When did all of this happen? How in the hell am I going to "parent" my own parents? I figured that this was something that happened later, but I'm afraid that it's already happened to me and I really have to come to grips with this new, and unwelcomed, responsibilty.

My parents are not perfect. They are my parents and they raised me into the person I am today. I'll be damned if I'm going to shirk my role as the appreciative son. It's the least that I can do, but I just didn't want it to happen quite so soon. Despite the appearance of maturity, I don't feel like a grown-up yet. Certainly not one that has to take care of his two parents.

As for my Mom, she's calling the insurance company, and will likely get some song and dance that I may have to sort out. I will wait for an update sometime tomorrow. I did end the phone conversation with a parental type speech about being careful, but I did manage a heartfelt I love you.