Prologue: My Parents and The Big "C" - Part 1.

My current living situation could be seen from the perspective as "half-empty" or "half-crazy" - either one fits. Without a "partner" I can lean on for both moral and physical support - my options are not exactly abundannt. Hence, I live next door to my parents. On purpose. My parents chose to retire in a quaint, small town - *cue* "Cheers" opening song "Where Everybody Knows Your Name..." (and you're always glad you came?). It's like high-school, but all the students are driving suburbans and keeping talley on those within their social circle. I won't lie - it's weird. I miss the anonyminity of the city desperatly; probably because I am a non-conformist and stick out like a sore thumb. But in a healthy, take-stock-of-what-life-is-all-about, kinda-way. It is definitely small-town America - but when you're completely alone and responsible for the welfare and stability of two small children, mom and dad don't sound too bad. When comparing the pros and cons of my current, god-willing "temporary" living situation, I am always amazed at where I am in life - cuz' it sure ain't where I thought I'd be when I left their home at the tender age of 18, hope and optimism clouding my eyes. The Pros: They love my girls unconditionally; it doesn't get much better than that. My mom is an AMAZING cook (I burn toast) and invites us over to eat during the week. Convenient, as they are only 200 feet away. My dad does my lawn work. God love him. He just finished his last round of chemo and has managed to maintain my yard. Superdad. If the girls get sick, they help watch them during the day so I won't lose my ever-so-precious "Personal Time" at work. You're allotted a certain number of hours each year; let's just say I am always cutting it close come December. My mom is a "worrier" - she is constantly on CODE RED in case an emergency strikes - the key phrase being "in case." These emergencies encompass anything; from the girls climbing the stairs "They could fall and break their necks!" (I am reminded EVERY time we go over there) - to the mundane, "Are the girls in the restroom? What if they find a chair to climb on and get into something?" And so on and so forth. Kinda takes the enjoyment out of my rare opportunity for adult conversations. She would have made an amazing safety inspector. For real. My dad, Bill, is a time nazi and watches me leave for work each morning as he sips coffee and reads the paper. His window shade is rolled up as he watches me try and get two unwilling participants into a car, backpaks thrown around my neck, all while I try and keep our dog from racing out the front door. He'll then bitch to my mom about me being late. I refer to this as "Living in a Fishbowl." I wouldn't trade this time I have with them and their stable influence they have had on my children for all the tea in China. While I miss the familiar and open floorplan Target used to offer in the city, Super Walmart isn't that bad. As long as you have anti-bacterial wipes and the patience of Ghandi.