How living on my own taught me how much I should appreciate my parents.
Last week was my very first week living on my own in an apartment, and, in all honesty, it kinda sucked.
I didn’t really know anyone else in the area, and most of my friends who will be in Houston for the summer were at home with their families. So, on Sunday afternoon, after my roommate dropped off her stuff and drove back to Plano for the week, I was utterly bored out of my mind.
I swept and mopped the apartment (again), cleaned some dishes, warmed up the leftover pizza in the fridge and hunkered down at my dining table/desk to rewatch “30 Rock.” Then, about six episodes later, I looked over into the kitchen to see a cockroach crawling along the ledge of the window. So I decided to call it a night.
Monday was supposed to be my first official day of work, but my meeting was pushed back so I had another day off. Great. More dishes, more “30 Rock.” At that point, I was convinced I had become a Liz Lemon.
Finally, after what felt like eons, Tuesday morning rolled around, and man, did it hit me with a bang. At 8 a.m. I was running to Rice campus to print out a form to take downtown and get a badge for my first internship. And, of course, I wore the wrong shoes that day; I could feel the blisters forming on my toes.
I showed up to the health department and was introduced to my mentor’s team members, some of whom I will be working with. I was already assigned with a task due Friday, and I’d barely been in the office for an hour.
At 1 p.m. I was on the move to the Metro stop. Luckily, I brought my sneakers with me in case I decided to work out later that day (spoiler alert: I didn’t). And nothing feels more professional than a nice blouse and dress pants paired with some Brooks running shoes, am I right?
I was back on Rice campus for a meeting for my second internship. More introductions and learning about the project, and of course more plans for Friday. By the time I finished the meeting at 4:30, I was exhausted.
I walked back to my apartment, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and sat on my couch to recover from the busy day.
Never had I felt a greater appreciation for my parents, both of whom work full-time jobs. After a long day of work, they don’t just sit on the couch or watch “30 Rock.” They would make dinner for my siblings and me, help us with our homework, drive us around to our extracurricular activities and then do it all over again the next day. And here I am, sitting on the couch, too tired to even pull my MCAT book off the shelf.
Granted, this is my first time, and there is a learning curve. But I am still amazed at how my parents could pull it off with three kids running around the house. And sure, it wasn’t always smooth-sailing. But, they did something right — I mean, look at the way I turned out (sorry Sapna and Rishab).
So if you’re at home (or the next time you go home), as much as you want to lie around the house, give your parents a hand. I know my mom jokingly likes to remind me how she’s been working since 7 a.m. while I was snoozing away, but I make an active effort to help out when cooking dinner, doing the dishes or washing the clothes.
Because one day, if you’re ever in their position, you’ll want the help, too.
Source: Odyssey