Blog Swap: Going Home vs. Visiting the Parents

Hello my loves…Today I’m over at Tabitha’s corner while she’s a guest here. Be sure to show her the same love you show me and don’t forget to go and read my blog about my boyfriend and his pet!


We visited my parents this past weekend, for the first time since we got married in August. I mean, we’ve seen them since the wedding, but it was the first time going down to the desert as Mr. & Mrs. Carnes. I hadn’t really thought about how it might be different, spending time in the house where I grew up now that I’m someone’s wife. It felt…kind of foreign. A little bit unfamiliar. Maybe it was a combination of being a newlywed and meeting my baby nephew for the first time. Maybe it just had to do with the fact that so much has changed in the last year…or two…or three.

I used to call it “going home for the weekend.” But I just started a new family with Joe, and we have our own home. Now, whenever we go to the desert, it’s “visiting my parents.”

I think it might’ve been a little weird for them, too. Aside from the part when my mom called me by my full (former) name when she saw me texting while I was at a stop light (snicker), I think they’re doing a really great job of “getting” the whole thing about me “leaving my mother and father to cling to my husband.” But there was the part when my mom told us our sleeping options were “the couches in the living room or the pull-out bed in the back room.” As if we, a couple of madly-in-love newlyweds, would even consider sleeping on separate couches in the middle of my parents’ living room. I had to really resist the urge to say, “That pull-out bed is going to get a couple new tweaks after WE get in it…” (It totally did, by the way.)

Maybe it was weird before we even got to their house, because of all the architectural changes going on in my hometown. The main street that leads to ours used to have this great big roller coaster of a dip that would flood with the first couple inches of rain that fell; they finally built a bridge over it. And I’m still not used to the giant Costco that went up a few years ago, or the “Super” everythings – Super Wal*Mart, Super Target, and even a Super Smart & Final. (Or, I guess it was called “Smart & Final Extra!”?)

Maybe it was weird seeing my younger siblings’ report cards on the fridge, bearing the fact that one of them is graduating this year. Maybe it was having “adult” conversations with my parents, about stuff they didn’t used to let me in on as a teenager. Maybe, like I said earlier, it was watching my big brother hold his newborn son, and glance at his beautiful wife, another whole family growing right before my eyes.

Or maybe it was just the simple act of “doing it” in my parents’ house. That might be the only real reason it felt different this time… (grin)

Whatever the reason, I think it’s a good kind of different.

It’s no surprise that I’m growing up, changing, maturing. But I think it was nice to see that my family is still growing, changing and maturing, too. And at the same time, it was nice to remember that I’m still a part of it.

Thank you, PQ, for sharing your space with me today! And thanks to PQ’s awesome readers for bearing with the break in her regularly scheduled programming. Happy Tuesday!

9 thoughts on “Blog Swap: Going Home vs. Visiting the Parents

  1. LOL…That’s never going to happen with my parents but I’m glad it was a good kind of different! Thanks for sharing…loved this post!


  2. I imagine this is how I will feel when I come back home to visit after moving to MS with my new husband. Or how he’ll feel when we move into his mom’s house for a couple months until we find an apartment…..
    .-= Jaime´s last blog ..Not Smoking, Six Flags, & Stuff =-.


  3. Great post, as usual.

    It’s weird when you realize you’re growing up, eh? I still have moments like this when I’m at home and realize that it’s not 100% the same as it used to be.

    I don’t know if I have the guts to have sex in my parents house… I hope I can find out one day!
    .-= Nora´s last blog ..The Horse Phobia =-.


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