Parent to Child

These fine specimen are my parents.

This morning I dropped them off at the airport after a quick visit to see their cute and fun fourth child. It was great to see them, and hard to see them go. They helped us with home improvement projects (more on that later), played with the kids, and basically worked themselves to the bone for 2.5 days straight. As I blubbered my way home, alone in the car, I reflected on the fact that once you're someone's kid, you're always their kid. Just as once you're a parent, you're always a parent. Time and age don't change those cold, hard facts.

I mean, I'm 35 years old, and I like to think I'm a fairly independent, capable person. I have a husband, three children, a house, and a minivan. I manage to keep my children fed and clothed and even entertained sometimes . I've always held a calling at church, and am dependable and helpful to others. But darn it, I still need my Mommy and Daddy.

It's funny, don't you think, that no matter how old we get, we still need support and encouragement and approval from our parents. For example, when my parents were here, I found myself wanting to show them projects I'd completed, closets I'd organized, and pieces I could play on the piano. In effect I was saying "Mom! Dad! Look at me! See what I've done! Tell me I've done a good job!" And it made me realize, maybe I should have more patience when my children are doing the same thing to me. After all, that's a major part of being a parent. Telling these people you've created that they can do it, they can navigate life's waters successfully because they are talented, capable, fabulous people. And by golly, they just manufactured the most beautiful craft project I've ever seen.

As I was walking around Home Depot with my dad, picking up supplies and watching him argue with the electrician on staff about high-tech electrical things I knew nothing about, I was transported back in time. Suddenly I was six years old, out on an important errand with my dad. Just the two of us. We didn't have deep conversations, but we spent time together on a project, building and measuring and drilling and leveling. And I loved it. I loved being with my dad, just him and me, learning from his experience and expertise, and seeing him proud of me.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for coming to visit. And for working so hard to help me and my family. I truly appreciate it. And I love you. And I know I'm your favorite, but I won't tell the others. Don't worry, the secret's safe with me. :o)