More and more like my parents everyday

More and more like my parents everyday

As much as it pains me to admit this, I am afraid I'm becoming more like my parents in my old age. I'm doing several things, even things FOR FUN, that I swore up and down I'd never do when I got out on my own and could make my own choices.


Case in point: antiquing.

My parents are both huge antique collectors. It's an obsession, people. My brother and I spent most of our childhood either in antique stores, at flea markets, or tirelessly sitting through the most boring auctions one can imagine. The only saving grace at these types of things was that you could pretty much ask for anything you wanted and they'd buy it for you, just to keep you quiet. Can of pop? Sure, have two! Candy bar? Take your pick! Slice of pie? Why not a whole one? Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating there, but eating our way through those things was our only chance at survival.

I don't even imagine that you could count the number of times my brother and I begged to just stay home, or to be anywhere but there. I said numerous times that you'll never catch me at one of these things ever again, as soon as I'm a grown up and can do whatever I want.

So now where will you find Nick and me most weekends? Scouting out antique stores all over the metro area. Of course we are merely looking for robot parts, but we're there nonetheless, and dare I say, enjoying ourselves immensely. At first I made Nick promise he wouldn't mention it to my parents, but it's too much of a secret to keep when we find ourselves there ALL THE TIME.

Oh yes, my parents know, and I'm sure they are smiling on the inside while thinking "I told you so" a hundred times over.

Next item of evidence: coupons.

When I was younger, my thrifty and responsible parents were coupon-clippers. We had coupons for groceries, for eating out and for anything else you could possibly have a coupon for. I hated those coupons, especially the ones for eating out. We had to pick what restaurant we were going to based on which coupons were available within the magical little coupon pouch. It dictated everything, even what we could order off the menu. I hated it.

I can remember writing a speech once in grade school based on the topic of the most embarrassing thing to happen to you. My specific event revolved around coupons and my parents, who were trying to use two coupons at once for lunch at Boston Market and being told by the check-out person that they could only use one. They were trying to convince the worker that it didn't say anything about that in the fine print, and the whole event culminated with them sternly asking to see the manager and pleading their case. By this point, I was so willing to hand them over their 50 cents or dollar or whatever it was they would be saving just so they'd stop embarrassing me. I just wanted to die. By the end of my speech, I had my teacher and classmates in stitches. With all of those witnesses, I swore I would never use a coupon again in my life.

And you guessed it, Nick and I have now started clipping coupons. But in our defense, lattes are expensive, yo. Every time we save a few bucks at the grocery store, we figure that's the price of our trip to Starbucks, guilt-free. We haven't yet graduated to using coupons at restaurants and I sort of hope we don't get to that point, but we are certainly well on our way.

The last incriminating item: educational television.

This one specifically relates to my dad, rather than both my parents. My father, being a science teacher, seemed to always have public television on when we were growing up. He was watching all sorts of educational programs and recording a bunch of them to show to his class. Talk about BORING. My brother and I wanted to watch cartoons and after-school specials and sitcoms. What we didn't want to see were lions roaming the African bush in search of their next meal.

So about a week or so ago, when Nick wasn't paying any attention, I hi-jacked the DVR and went through a day or two's worth of programs, recording whatever piqued my interest. We sat down to watch TV a little while later, scanning through our list of recorded shows, and Nick was shocked and slightly appalled to see about four or five episodes of Meerkat Manor in the list. I've never seen it before but I've heard a lot about it, so I was curious. Plus they are so freakin' cute when they stand on their hind legs and look all around. He agreed to let me watch one episode, but after that we were both hooked and watched them all back-to-back. And then set the DVR to record the next season, laughing at ourselves because we are so like my dad.


I know that these things alone are probably enough cause for alarm, but you should relax because I think we've got it under control. However, the minute we start wearing brown hiking boots with black dress slacks or spending three hours on eBay trying to track down the selling price of whatever bargain treasure most recently purchased, then I'd like for you all to please stage an intervention. Help us. Please.