a peaceful, easy feeling

It’s that time again. My parents’ bi-annual visit is upon us. They’ll arrive tomorrow. Last visit, I insisted they stay in a hotel, and the visit was so good. This visit, I’m assuming they’re doing the same thing, but they haven’t said, and I haven’t had the energy (been a long, hard few months at work) to ask.

As I approach 40, I think about my parents’ acceptance or lack of it (been thinking about a lot as I approach 40, frankly). And I think they are more accepting of me and mine than they let on. They are, heaven help them, just a little critical by nature. I’m never going to be the woman they want me to be, so if we all accept that as a given, then I think we’re all doing quite well at accepting the woman I actually am. You know, what they know of the woman I actually am.

Because they have been so terribly critical in the past, at some point, I just quit telling them anything overly personal or intimate. It isn’t their fault. It was a choice I made. My mother’s answer to everything is always to pray and that God will provide, and while I completely agree with both of those assertions, they never really met me where I was in my time of need. I tend to be a girl who really needs a real-world person to present an answer and a face to my need. I’m not saying that’s right by any measure, just that it’s who I am. So when she wasn’t really there to hold my hand when really all I needed was a little hand holding and instead chose to mention that my faith might not quite but up to snuff, I quit sharing.

I left home for college at 18, and other than a brief three month period after graduation, I haven’t lived at home or in the same town with my parents since then. I haven’t lived in the same state as the rest of my family since I was 22. And yes, everyone else in my family still lives in the same small town.

With no sharing of intimate details, it’s really hard to remain close 18 years later or even to know one another well. Neither of my parents are on speaking terms with their siblings for various though remarkably similar reasons. I consider it a huge blessing that my brother and my sister-in-law, Nicole, and I are so close.

I wish my parents knew who I am now because I think that - despite the fact that I didn’t turn out to be the stay-home, home-schooling mom they wish I was - they would be proud of the way I respond to people, the way I treat people, of who I am. Of course, as I say that, I think about the fact that I do occasionally curse like a sailor, and I let my son watch tv that features things he might not should see but that is kinda funny anyway, and that don’t clean my house until visitors come over… and then I just try to shove as much as possible into my closet and then just close the door.

Of course, the flip side is also true… I don’t know the people they are today any better than they know the person I am today. I know that the angry man who reared me is calmer, even if he is also less fun than he was when I was younger. I know my mother is consistent. I know that while her method of relating to things isn’t my way, I do respect her for it.

And while all of this is a little saddening, I’m also ok with it. I am grateful for them, that they love us all and enjoy spending time with my kids enough to come visit. I am grateful that we all seem to have come to a peaceful middle ground in our relationship. And really, for me, peaceful is what I’m looking for in all of my relationships.

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