There’s no situation that makes me feel more childish and incompetent than when I’m around my parents. Under most normal circumstances, I regard myself as a fair mature and well-functioning adult. I have a job therefore a steady income. I am married. We own a condo. We have a mortgage. Heck, I even manage to cook dinners (most nights) and do my own laundry.
But around my parents, and most especially my mom, I feel like I’ve reverted back to being 15 again. Maybe it’s because my mom sometimes still sees me this way. But suddenly, I’m unsure of myself, even with simple things like tomorrow’s task of having my family over for a birthday dinner for my dad.
Stuart’s cleaned the house. I’ve made a pie. And tomorrow, I’ll be roasting vegetables as well as steaming up some green beans. My parents will be here for approximately three hours, leaving at nine because we have to work the next day. And for some reason, I’m ridiculous nervous and stressed out by all this. I’m suddenly not sure how my pie will turn out and if they’ll like it. I wonder if we should clean more, somehow noticing the minute specks of dust on the side tables. Will they complain about how loud it is here? Will they critique how small our place is? Will they start asking the baby questions again? Ugh.
And this is all the while knowing that everything will be alright because my parents love me. And they know I’m doing well. And I should just take it as simply as having any other guests over for dinner. It just feels like so much more.