It’s All About the Vibe

It was with some measure of trepidation that I allowed my parents to leave today to gallivant around Europe for the next six weeks.

Yes, I know they’re adults.

Yes, I know they’re technically allowed to make their own choices without my input, permission or excellent advice.

Yes, I know I repeatedly pressured them to “take a break,” “go on a trip,” and “make retirement look appealing rather than exhausting so I have something to look forward to post-child-rearing.”

But they managed to ignore me so well and for so long, I wasn’t sure they would ever leave.

“No, no,” they’d protest. “We want to be here to help with our grandkids, to run the karate schedule, to plant your garden and take care of your yard.”

Um, yes, please.

It was all working out so well.  I would nobly suggest they take a more leisurely approach to retirement.  They would slog away growing my tomatoes.

And then it happened.  The unthinkable.

They booked a vacation.

And not a two-weeker.  A six-weeker.

This will be good for me, I tell myself.  This will make me self-reliant.  This will make me learn about tomatoes.

But my Dad made one serious error in his planning.  ‘Cause, while I’m supposed to miss them achingly and realize how much they do for our kids and us, he made me an offer.  An offer I couldn’t refuse.

See, Greg and I own two cars; the glamorous car and the minivan.  We used to own two minivans, but I couldn’t take it.  So I bought the glamorous car.  It’s a used Pontiac Vibe. ‘Cause Pontiacs are so sleek and so sexy, and they make people SO jealous.  It has cloth seats.

I know.  Try to hold yerself back.

My Pontiac is completely impractical for family life.  Glamorous cars always are.  It seats 5.  That means our whole family can’t fit in it, and I’m all, “Whatever.  Hauling more than 4 kids anyway is totally unsexy.”

The uber-hip, extra cool Pontiac is probably the reason why my dad wasn’t certain what my response would be when he made his offer.

Last week, as we were going over important details for my parents’ departure – things like our #1 family rule, “No dying” – my dad said, “So, I’m not going to be here to drive it.  Do you want keys to my convertible while we’re gone?”

Maybe diving across the dinner table to get at the keys, squealing like a 16-year-old with her first car, and then jumping up and down and yelling, “YES!  YES!  DO I WANT THE KEYS TO THE CONVERTIBLE?! YES!” was a little over the top.  But I think he got my point.

It’s just that the opportunities for a mother of 5 to be cool are, well, rather scarce.  Even if she owns her very own Pontiac.

So I’m trying to be sad about the family time we’ll miss with Nana and Papa this summer.  The BBQ’s.  The sleepovers.  The last-minute babysitting.  The sitting on the patio with my dad and a beer.

I’m trying to think about whether my tomatoes are getting too much water.  And whether the soaker hose is working.  And whether my 4-year-old can teach me how to reset the water timer if it’s not.

I’m trying to send my parents off with wishes for a memorable and relaxing trip.  To remind them to take pictures.  To reassure them that updating Facebook isn’t hard, and that publicizing their vacay won’t result in their condo being robbed.

I’m trying to miss them terribly like a good, dutiful daughter.

But my inner 16-year-old has taken over my mind.  CON.  VERT.  Ih.  BULL.

I’m picking up my summer car this afternoon!

I mean…

Bon Voyage, Mom and Dad!  Have a great trip.  Send postcards.  We’ll miss you!

Love,

Beth

(THIS AFTERNOON! Hee hee hee.)

 

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
6 comments
  1. Huh. You got the Miata, I got the Emergency Contact/Response Kit. Well, that just seals it; they love you more than they love me. I knew it!

    =)

  2. Beth, I’m totally with you on that one. My good friends (I’m godparent to their oldest son) have just announced they’re relocating to S. Africa for 2 years with work. It’s a big decision for them, and there’s no denying I’m going to miss them. I truly am. However, If I thought being a godparent was a big deal, their latest ask takes the word Responsility to a whole new level. Would I, they asked, look after their Audi TT sports car for 2 years? (I wrote my car carelessly by smashing into a stationary car on the motorway. And they have considered me to be a rightful guardian of their pride and joy?!) My heart overruled my head (those nagging “I may smash it up” doubts) and I pick up the keys on 9th August….!!

    Anyway, as I said previously I shall miss my friends probably almost as much as you’ll miss your parents.

    Here’s to a summer of coolness!!

    Sarah 🙂
    (Hope your parents have a fab time in Europe!)

  3. 18076

    1. Pretty sure it was about 22,000. Hang on and I’ll check…



      Yep! Sure enough. 22,000 miles on that little baby. I’ll only add a few more. 🙂

      IF it ever stops raining.

      Where are you?

  4. Hmmm… it hasn’t stopped raining since I picked it up. Wondering if I should return it so the Pac Northwest can have some sunshine back. 🙂

  5. that *is* exciting…for you BOTH! glad to hear you’re not above diving over the table to grab the keys, b/c that’s what i would’ve done too.

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