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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required If this piece somehow fails to live up to your expectations. Yeah, that tracks. My parents are here. There’s a surprise. Moving into a suite next to ours. They’ll be here three days. I love them dearly but one of them stresses me OUT. Step (my stepfather), is an invasive cardiologist. One of the very best. He’s ex-navy, fun, and full of self-dragging humor - he seldom seems too serious. He loves me, he’s proud of me, I think I’m his favorite. He’s non-judgemental in a way that suggests he knows I’m relatively new to being an adult person. My mom is a board-certified cardiac anesthesiologist. Say that ten times quickly - if it sounds stiff, you get it. She’s my Grandmère’s daughter to-a-tee (a later model). Grandmère admitted that my mom’s childhood was ‘strict.’ Grandmère’s husband died, she was young and suddenly left with a Spiderman’s life of great business and political responsibility. For my mom, that meant a sort of Victorian oppression - formal etiquette, governesses (nuns), and cold boarding schools. I love my mom, fiercely. I admire her beauty, elegance, determinism, decorative wit and civilized ruthlessness. Under her gaze, vanity can just sit in the corner with its lipstick on. I become messy, perfectly awkward and defensive. In our small, nuclear unit, I’m a second-stringer. Oh, she’d never openly admit it - but I get it - my siblings, both doctors, are just MORE. She’s always watching me and I can feel her taking notes on my flaws, for later. I’m slightly desperate, when surrounded by her attention. At 22, did your mom correct your posture, straighten your clothes or fix your hair? In her mind, I’m her little doll, while I like to pretend we’re separate. Whenever I stamp my foot and stand up to her - it’s both brave and ridiculous. They’re on their way to Poland, to work with ‘Doctors Without Borders,’ they’re an operating theater unto themselves. They make the world better, they literally save lives - they’re actually noble (they do this for free). They’re going to be here for three days - I haven’t even seen them yet - but I’m already stressed out, biting my fingernails and pacing. Peter’s on the sofa napping (of course). . . Songs for this (let’s go 80s - mom’s teen years): Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements Lessons In Love by Level 42 Every Day I Write the Book by Elvis Costello & The Attractions . . Disclaimer: This piece is slightly harsh - dramatized - for your reading pleasure - maximized, you might say - without lying about it.
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