After a few weeks of on and off grandparents time, it’s time for “Suma” and “Topa,” also known as “Sumi and Topey,” also known as Chris’s parents, to leave. They are leaving for the Europe leg of their round-the-world trip. I told Kaia this morning that they would be leaving, and she immediately grew pensive. She then declared, as she pointed to our bed, “That means you’ll be sleeping in that bed because they aren’t here!”

As we got closer to the time they had to leave, Kaia became visibly sad. She kept insisting she didn’t want them to go, and that she wanted to go with them. She said she wanted to go to Italy (where they are going next) and Melbourne with them. She even tried to put on her jacket and shoes to go with them. As the cab got packed up and they left, Kaia cried for a long time. Chris tried to comfort her and hold her, but she just kept crying. Finally, he consoled her with some Peppa Pig screen time, which of course, got her to immediately stop crying. She was fixated on the Peppa and George fight, apparently. Later on, she still kept saying she wanted to go to Melbourne with them.

My heart always aches in these situations. I really love seeing Chris’s parents get along so well with Kaia, and I love that she has a deep attachment to both of them. I myself also feel pretty sad when Chris’s parents leave. Even though I always get questions about how crowded and packed our apartment must feel, I genuinely don’t mind it at all. I do not say that to seem like a good sport or to create some facade of a perfect in-laws relationship; I truly mean it. I always look forward to their visits every year, and I look forward to seeing them when we go back to Melbourne in December. I don’t really care about giving up my bed for them since our sofa bed is actually quite comfortable. We have two bathrooms now, which makes the whole morning/evening routine a lot smoother. Unlike what Chris says about his parents, I think they are very “go-with-the-flow.” Even when we lived in our shoebox apartment on the Upper East Side and shared the space with them, I found it fun and enjoyable. They never once complained and always made the best of the experiences; they made it seem like an adventure since they’re so used to having a lot of space. At the end of the day, neither of them really came all this way to be a tourist in New York City; they came to spend time with their son and his wife, and now their granddaughter. I’ve always loved preparing food for them, and they are always happy to eat it (with the occasional complaint about being “stuffed to the gills” from his mom…) and make it very clear that they appreciate my efforts and skills. If there is one thing you cannot fault, it’s someone’s ability to always show appreciation for others. Chris’s parents never fail in this regard, even in the simplest things done for them (e.g…. when you place in the bathroom… a NEW SOAP BAR). It’s also nice to change up our usual routine and have other family and loved ones in our home. It’s more lively and more fun.

I also am briefly reminded in recent years of how my parents never visit, but it’s not like I romanticize what their visits could be like. They are not adaptable. They are absolutely not “go with the flow.” They complain about almost everything, see fault in everything, and rarely show outward appreciation for anything done for them. They zero in on the things they do for me and how I apparently have not shown appreciation towards them. It’s a game of, “How can we gaslight our child the most?” That’s not the kind of game I enjoy.

In the back of my mind, though, I still wish I had a better relationship with my parents. I wish I could be more open and honest with them. I wish I had their emotional support. I wish they could be close to Kaia the way that Chris’s parents are to her. But it’s a wish that will never be granted. They don’t want to make the effort, and well, I cannot sacrifice my sense of self and sanity and give them that much more time with her. “It is what it is,” as Chris always says. And lots of truths are sad and hurt.