Today was/is Mother's day.

This is kind of interesting for us, actually. This is the second Mother's Day for my wife, K, since she's actually become a mom. For my mother, it's number 34. And for her mother -- she now has 58 Mother's Days under her belt as a mom.

However, this is not a holiday that we have been really inclined to celebrate growing up. We would normally treat this like every other Sunday. After all, since my Dad's birthday is on May 13, my brother's on May 16, and K's on May 6 -- we already have good reason to get together in May. Why choose a day to do something while all the restaurants are booked up for lunch?

This year was different. Today started out a little special for K, as I let her sleep in -- I got Av up, fed him breakfast, and played with him throughout the morning. But after that, we went to Rockville to my parents' home. From there, we went to the nursing home where Grandma Mal, my mom's mom, is. She's 88 years old and has Parkinson's disease.

We don't visit nearly as often as we should, but I assume the visits would be similar to what we had today: we would do a lot of talking at her, not being able to hear or understand her responses on the most part. And we would try to get Av to feel comfortable in her lap without crying out for one of us to pick him up.

Grandma Mal's condition has deteriorated quite a bit through this last year. Which makes me think that there was a pretty important reason we decided to observe Mother's Day this year: there's a good chance that Mother's Day #59 will not come.

Depressing? Yes. It's been tough for her for quite a while, expecially since her husband (Grandpa Herb) died. Since then, she was moved from Florida up to the DC area to be near my mom and her sister. Her entire social circle gone. She's enjoyed seeing her family -- watching her kids, grandkids, and now great-grandkids take on new challenges in their lives. But it's unfortunate that all she really can do right now is watch.

I don't want this to be a eulogy for Grandma Mal. After all, she's still alive. All in all, it was as good a visit with her as we could have expected, so that wasn't really so depressing. What really made it an emotional roller-coaster was spending it with my Mom and Dad.

Don't get me wrong: I love them to pieces. I'm very fortunate that I grew up with them nurturing me. They've been married for just about 37 years - and have stuck through the good and the bad. They've given an incredible amount to make life wonderful for their kids and grandkids. And I've loved the years I've spent having a wonderful relationship with them.

It's just the actual minutes I spend with them that are frustrating.

Case and point: My Dad is very predictable. There are certain things that he will say, whether appropriate or not, every single time we see each other or when we talk on the phone. He needs to reiterate, each and every time, how wonderful it is to see the three of us. He needs to say, in a high pitched voice, "Look at you!" about thirty times when he sees Av. This year, he brings up the imminent attack of the killer cicadas that will be hitting us shortly.

As disrespectful as it sounds, K and I play a mental game of "Bingo" with the topics of discussion my Dad will bring up. Little Av is greusome -- meaning he grew... some! Yup. I had that one. BINGO!

That doesn't bother me as much as it becomes something idiosyncratic to laugh about. Nor does his love of technology and his passion to show it off. (We were taking my car since it seats all five of us, including the car-seat. Dad needed to show off his new toy, a top-of-the-line talking GPS system that he had turned up to an incredibly loud volume, having it bark out driving directions every 30 seconds. Okay, Dad: I get the picture.) I'm not even upset at the way that my Mom thinks that Av's favorite song is "London Bridge" because one time in September it seemed like he was singing along. (She now will sing it non-stop to see if she can duplicate the results.)

No. What bugs me is the way we all revert to me being a child when I'm around them. When they set foot in the car, I became a 16-year old driver again, with my Mom having to remind me not to move the car until everyone was wearing his/her seatbelt, and my Dad making sure I saw that car waiting in the driveway in front of me who might just lunge out into traffic. ("You never know.") They really want to retain some sort of control -- to know that there are certain things that we still depend on them for, I guess...

My brother and his wife are expecting their third kid in September. And they're looking to buy a mini-van. Thus my Dad has brought the responsibility upon himself to do the research on what kind they should get. At times the path of least resistance is to let them "help" in their own ways. If we need to go a different direction from there, we do it after their involvement is complete.

I guess I don't want to turn into them in this way. I hope I can be as nurturing to my son as they were to me. I hope K and I can provide a happy and healthy childhood. But I also want my kid (kids?) to learn independence and responsibility. A safety-net is nice to have, but after a while the real world needs to be visible in order to take everything seriously.

Will I become my father? There probably will be some traits that will stick. I'll show off the latest technology I've acquired. I'll tell some dumb jokes. But hopefully I'll be nurturing enough to let Av learn from some of his mistakes rather than preventing them in the first place.

Only time will tell.

Happy Mother's Day to all...