The Mammas and The Pappas

It’s been quite a few years since I moved out of my parent’s house. I was about 18years old the first time I moved out and I remember thinking to myself… FREEDOM!!! Well, a lot has changed since then and when I made the decision to move back home last year and back to the comfort of my parent’s den, I must admit that it all seemed very daunting.

How could I ever live with my parents again, after being on my own for so long? After doing my own laundry, grocery shopping, cooking and cleaning, all at my own leisure. Well, it’s been 9months now and surprisingly, I’ve survived. Admittedly it took some adjusting. Getting used to not cooking your own dinner, having dinner at 18h00 instead of 22h00, in fact having dinner at all. It’s all been a bit of learning curve, kinda like learning the things you’ve un-learnt for so long.

My Mom and Dad are two of the most unique and bizarre parents I’ve ever known. My Dad is proper old school. I’m talking flannel plaid pajamas, khaki shoes, ‘always keep an extra pair of clothes with you in case it rains’ old school. Anyone who’s ever met my Dad will probably tell you that he’s a pretty straight talking, serious business looking type of man, who happens to like Oprah. My Mom (another Oprah fan) on the other hand is a social butterfly, all bubbly and cheerful  with many a blonde moment. Always cooking up a storm and her melt-in-the-mouth cakes are probably one of the reasons why my diets never last very long.

As much as I love my independence, I’ve gotta admit that I’ve quite enjoyed having the comforts of home again, like the fridge always being fully stocked and never running out of biscuits. Yes, it’s been challenging relenting a lot of my independence and allowing my parents to take care of me. In fact, when I first moved back home I constantly had to reassure my folks that I was fine, I didn’t need anything, I had my own money and they didn’t need to always factor me into their plans.

But, the more I tried to retain my independence in my parent’s home, the more they insisted on taking care of me. Till, eventually I just let go of all my inhibitions and let them do what they did best, love and nurture. Because  sometimes the best gift you can give someone is allowing them to take care of you. 

I’m all grown up now, but my parents are still my parents. And even though I can walk, talk, eat and do most things all by myself now, sometimes it’s just nice to know that you don’t have to do it all on your own. So here’s to my Dad who gets up at 06h00 in the morning when it’s freezing cold and dark outside, even though he doesn’t need to get up for another two hours, just to wave me goodbye as I speed off to work. And here’s to my Mom who’s always faffing about me, worrying that I don’t eat or sleep enough and brings me warm cups of tea when I’m stuck at my desk for hours. To The Mammas and The Pappas, what’d we do without ya?

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