The Routine of Parental Visits

When the parents come to visit their young, aspiring offspring during the grueling years at college, there are always three things that happen.

One: you clean.

Laundry gets done for the first time in weeks.

The floors are swept and vacuumed. And if you are feeling really outgoing, or you are sucking up, the place is dusted.

The mountain of dishes is properly stored in the correct location.

You must make your parents believe your living hole is spotless all the time.

But they know. Don't kid yourself.

Two: free food.

That's a given.

All the friends you haven't seen in weeks come out from hiding for that upscale dinner.

And there is that trip to Wal-Mart where you pick out every piece of food that could possibly fit in or around your kitchen.

Because you know it has to last you until they make that trip again.

Three: the talk.

It starts with the basic 'How are classes?'

Then it subtly progresses to 'What are you going to do with your life?'

If you are like me, you try to prep the answers, but they never come out the way you intend, because parents are masters at catching you off guard.

As my dad and I were having this seat-squirming conversation this weekend, I realized how the common grounds of our lives continue to grow more and more with each meeting.

I'm at that stage where my parents aren't sure where to put me on the child/adult spectrum.

I still feel as if I need to downplay my time at Bonnaroo, but at the same time I'm trying to one-up my dad in college stories.

Times are different between our generations though.

My mom can't believe I'm showing her my hookah because she's reminiscing on her childhood. But I'm trying to explain the legality of my crystal novelty.

My stepdad jammed out to Johnny Cash while I'm trying to convince my parents that Sunset Rubdown and Frightened Rabbit are real bands, and I'm not making up going to concerts.

Then my dad is asking for advice on my younger siblings.

Then I'm taking those stories to my friends as we sit around and use that phrase we swore we would never use, "Kids these days."

Does that make me old?

Anyways, my parents now ask what kind of beer or wine I want when I go home.

Where do I go from that?

I still want to have to feverously clean when they come to visit.

Well, maybe not that one, but I still want the free food.

And my parents keep me in check.

I live and breathe the independence, but I still need the questions.

If I they didn't ask what I was doing with my stagnant life, I would probably follow Spencer around in the hopes of becoming part of the band.

I don't think we ever grow out of answering to our parents.

My mom still asks my grandmother for advice on a great number of aspects of her life.

I'm sure I wll mimic those same actions.

Needless to say, I look forward to the next visit.

I'm running low on munchies and the T-shirts are becoming the everyday wear.