Parental Guidance

So there I was just casually minding my own business, watching some telly on a Saturday night when suddenly I heard a booming voice…

‘You got to be shitting me,’ my dad exclaimed as he clocked that Take Me Out was on.  

I beg your pardon. You got to be what-ing now? I thought.

It was the last episode of the season and I had been working at my computer all day – need one explain that one is trying to unwind here?  I sat tight, ignoring this outlandishly rude remark.

 Then, as if right on cue, mother appeared from nowhere and began adding her tuppence-worth: ‘Goodness is this still going on!?’ she said, grimacing at the television.

I was simply trying to relax and I had two people heaping on the judgement. It was practically bullying. I sat tighter, determined to protest my civil right to watch this dating show on a Saturday evening.

 I could hear some of huffing and puffing behind me – the two were obviously trying to figure out how to usurp me from my authoritative channel controlling position.

THEN the traitorous vigilante, I had formally called father, picked up the remote and without even a flinch of sympathy or condolence heartlessly changed the channel!! What the hell. I couldn’t believe this –

No, before you ask, this wasn’t a dream.

Last week I went home for a few days a) so see the fam, and b) to get some uni work done in the peacefulness of my home. The thing is I completely forgot about how intensely irritating it is living with my folks.

I am in my early twenties and yet nothing has changed. I might as well just poop in the bathtub and run around in my underpants – because coming home after living away, is like stepping back twenty years. Sometimes I think that parents are put on this just earth to irritate the hell out of their spawn. 

Take my mother for example. She has this infuriating habit of responding to every question I ask with a question.

  Me: ‘Mum, where’s the ketchup?’

 Mum: ‘Where do you think the ketchup is?’

                                         – Errmmm If I knew I WOULDN’T BE ASKING now would I!?

I’m now getting slightly touchy because my food is getting cold with all this dilly-dallying around. I raise my voice ever so slightly (under usual circumstances only bats would be able to detect the heightened frequency).

 ‘MUM!? Where’s the ketchup!?’

                                                         ‘DON’T BE RUDE’ She snaps.

She then proceeded to offload this massive diatribe about showing ‘respect’ in the house. It was my ‘tone ‘apparently.  When I finally managed to eat my dinner it was luke warm and I was much displeased at this incredulous behaviour.

Now I don’t know if anyone else experiences this when they go back to their parents gaff but my dad has some kind of warped theory that if any food enters the house he has the right to eat it.

One of the man’s favourite past times seems to be foraging about the house looking food, a bit like a forest bear – which exceedingly upsets me when he starts snuffling around my Easter chocolate hoard.

 ‘DAD!!!’ I cried in dismay, ‘that’s my chocolate!’

I had left my seat to nip to the toilet and I returned just in time to see Bob the bunny’s (see pic of Bob in ‘Happy Easter you Sexy Bitch’) hind quarters disappear into his massive chomping cave of a mouth.

‘I was saving that to have with a cup to tea!’

At this moment I would like to add that this bunny – was the only chocolate I received this Easter – so you can understand my protection over it.

 Then instead of apologising for ruining my 4pm chocolate break he proceeded to give me evils as he pretended to read the Sunday Times.

Why do parents assume that if there is any food under their roof they are entitled to eat it?

He could have asked.  I would have said no. But he could have asked.

Image from geog.uvic.ca

By day five of being confined in a living space with only my parents I was beginning to feel the tension. But I hadn’t reached tipping point – that was until the juicing began…

If there is one thing my mother loves doing it’s juicing. She’ll juice anything; apples, oranges, celery, carrots, beetroot, (which she always calls ‘beets’ as if she’s from Texas America – IT’s BEETROOT!)…

The most irritating thing about this is that she always cranks on the juicer when I am trying to do something important like essay writing or napping.

So it was creeping toward the end of my stay. I was trying to nab a quick break in between study time, so to take my mind of work I decided to preoccupy myself with a riveting episode of Jeremy Kyle that happened to be on telly at the time. Now before this moment the house had been quiet, still, tranquil even. Perfect. I’ll just relax for 20 mins. My mind was aching after so much thinking.

As if by magic – as soon as my-ass-met-sofa – my mother starts incessantly juicing like a mad woman right in my ear hole.

But that’s not what got to me. She THEN went to the other side of the kitchen leaving the juicer ON!!! No it wasn’t juicing anything. It was just making this BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.  And this went on for approx 3 minutes of the program as she washed carrots the other side of the kitchen.

Image from beautifulathlete.com

My head was throbbing. She turned it on right when Kyle was about to go ape shit on this teenager who ‘forgot to use a condom’ – and guess what – I missed it didn’t I –

I then went slightly nuts.

‘WHATTHEHELLI’MTRYINGTORELAXHEREANDYOUAREDRIVINGMEUPMENTALCREEK’

Despite not being able to make out what I was saying because the juicer was on, she looked over and figured I was pissed off and saying something ‘rude’ as she likes to call it. Then she started yelling too, effectively telling me to stop shouting at her. Geeeze it was the most stressful 20 minute break of my life. We both stormed to our rooms and slammed the door.  

I returned to my work tense, resentful, slightly def and with a sore throat.

Now when I came back down the stairs there was a big pint glass of fresh juice waiting for me.

I stopped and stared at it. It suddenly occurred to me that ma was actually trying to look after me. Yes she was irritating me in the process but I realised that this whole juicing thing was a part of her trying to feed me up  like I was a little marmoset and look after me so I was strong, healthy and fit when I returned to uni. Then I felt kind of bad.

As I slurped this carrot/beetroot concoction I began thinking about all the irritating things my parents do. They may eat my chocolate, change the channel when I am watching something, respond to my questions with questions and juice a lot but these are all such trivial things when I step back and look at the bigger picture. Despite how much they piss me off sometimes they have never once made me feel like I can’t come home. We may clash and argue like crazy people but I guess we are just feisty.

As I sat on this rickety two carriage train taking me back up to the big smoke I realized that my folks weren’t that bad. I’m sure I get on their tits as much as they get on mine but they never stop loving me or trying to feed me and nurture me. I guess that kind of clarity only comes when you leave.

Hope you have a great week peeps.

x

Tags: humour Parents rant student

Categories: Rant