Parenting the Parents

I spent the long weekend out at my parents' house in the suburbs, helping my mom clean the house in preparation for putting it on the market tomorrow. They've bought a nice condo in a new complex a little further west, and they're neck-deep in things like choosing carpet and initialing papers. I had to spend hour upon hour being very interested in my mother's choice of tile and what sort of window treatments she's going to buy. In a strange turn of events, my dad was actually being much more sociable, asking me questions about what I'm up to, while Mom babbled on about herself. In the only moment I had alone with my dad, I asked him how he was doing with all of the hubbub, knowing he's not good about change in general, especially not uprooting himself after nearly a quarter-century. He sighed and made noises about how he would be very glad once all of the papers were signed. I tried to get him excited about the huge new kitchen and no yard work, and he agreed that that was all very nice, but he just seemed very tired with the whole process. My mom, on the other hand, while running herself entirely ragged between work and getting the house ready and preparing to move and making decisions about the condo, couldn't be more energetic to the point of manic. She talked constantly about the house; she never tires of it. I'm completely annoyed and frustrated with the whole deal, because even though I know I should be really happy for them. So I just fake being happy with my mom, and try to get my dad to be ok with all of this activity. I feel very much like I have to parent my parents.