Paradise or Punishment: Parents and Cleaning at College

The day we move to college is generally a big deal.  We temporarily say goodbye to our parents, siblings, pets, comfortable beds, etc.  But, soon enough, there will be a visit, dreaded or not, from a parent. 

This past week both my parents and my roommate’s mother paid a visit to Missoula.  I love when my folks come into town, even if only for an evening (they live in Butte so it’s a quick trip usually).  The typical “duToit parent-daughter evening out” usually entails the conversation catch-up on school and work, a stop in at the house so my mama can check if the fridge is stocked with some decent food, and, of course, a damn good free meal.  In the last few months my mother determined her love for sushi rolls.  So, while dollar night is always a big hit for me, a true sit down at Sushi Hana downtown makes for a pretty wonderful evening.  Mr. and Mrs. duToit and I stop in at a gallery opening, peruse my home, and, finally, fill up our stomachs.  It moves quickly, but just slow enough to get in some good family love before they have to return east.  It really is, and was, the perfect combination.

For the weekend, my roommate’s mom arrived.  However, her stay would last a bit longer, flying in from the Seattle area for a true Montana visit.  By and large, I enjoy the company of parents.  They bring that “parent warmth” into a home, which often includes groceries and goodies as well.  I can’t understand why one wouldn’t enjoy it, really.  It becomes a good way of testing our adult selves.  Responding to and generating conversations about career intentions, picking out wines that cost more than seven dollars, cleaning our vehicles, watching the news, discussing politics, etc.  It feels good, every so often, to see what it just might be like when we graduate, gain insurance benefits, and stick our noses up to the sight of Coors Light in the vegetable crisper at a college home.

Truthfully, I like to consider myself reasonably adult already, at least for a twenty-year-old.  But, for this single weekend, I’d never quite felt so young.  Yes, there are Coors Light’s in my vegetable crisper and, no, I don’t find the time to recycle.  Occasionally I do sleep in past twelve and forget to put the trash out on Tuesdays…three weeks in a row, but my roommate did buy a Swiffer Sweeper to clean the kitchen floor, and I know it’ll make its way out of the box soon enough. 

When Sunday afternoon arrived, my roommate’s mama returned to Seattle and things in the house drifted back to our ways within a couple of days, as usual.  While the visits weren’t too out of the ordinary, I feel like I’ve finally come to the understanding that my roommates, and myself included, are much younger than we sometimes feel, particularly in the light of a mother’s eyes.  But, if this realization of youth is truly the case, I’m planning to hang onto it for as long as necessary.  I’ll vacuum the living room when mom decides to return to Missoula, but, until then, I’ll make sure the milk isn’t too spoiled and the cabinet is stocked with a nice bottle of Little Penguin.  My roommate might recycle…for a week…and, eventually, we’ll all giggle, mamas included, at one another’s quirky behaviors.