Dear Mom and Dad,
As we have experienced, sometimes one's memory of one's own childhood isn’t an entirely accurate account. Who can say what memories, or pieces of memories, we’ll retain over the years?
However, I do know that I was a bit – nay, a large chunk – of a pill from time to time. I don’t recall the early childhood years so well, but I have rather vivid memories of later incidents in which I just didn’t want to cooperate. And I can’t recall having a super reason for my obstinacy.
Occasionally, I didn’t want to take my medicine. Sometimes, I didn’t want to memorize my multiplication tables, or finish my vegetables if we were having some unfortunate, Southern-inspired selection purchased by Dad. (who can eat straight lima beans? They are as paste in your mouth.) Eh, that’s a kid for ya.
But the times I really regret are the occasions in which you chose to attempt -- knowing it would be easier, frankly, not to take the time and effort -- to introduce me to something new. Something neat, something fun – something that shaped you. Something you thought I could benefit from. At the very least, an experience we could share.
I would resist and resist, and finally, just cry and run to my room. (or was I sent there? It doesn’t much matter.) I would fling myself on my bed and weep, feeling the shame of being old enough to know better. Why did I do it? Why didn’t I exert 1/5th of that energy to simply attempt whatever it was you were offering to show me? Maybe I wasn’t in the mood. Maybe it felt unnecessary. (Layups when I was 8? Come on, Dad. True, I would’ve been a better basketball player, but maybe that was pushing it.) I think by running away, I was partially trying to punish you somehow for trying to get me to do something new. How dare you! Don’t I know a lifetime’s worth of skills before I’m 10? No? Oh.
Which brings me to the worst part of these experiences – the most painful part of the tears were brought on by the awareness that I was missing out on something. Some neat new skill, but more than that – a time to bond with my mom and/or dad. Who are pretty cool people, actually.
I'm glad you had a more cooperative, competitive child the second time around. And, in fairness, i WAS the one kid who would answer in non-monosyllabic tones when asked at the dinner table, 'So, what happened in school today?' Granted, it was often a tale from biology class about hookworms or some such thing... But at least it was something.
I hope I was better in my later teen years, to help make up for some of the frustration you must have experienced. I did eventually learn how to do a layup! I did eventually learn those multiplication tables! I will eat just about any vegetable now! But I still regret putting you through that.
Why must our children repeat our mistakes… Why…
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... because of the age old mother's curse: "one day you'll have a child like you. Then! You'll understand."
ReplyDeleteJay --
ReplyDeleteFar scarier (I'm making an assumption on that point -- maybe it's equally scary. Or even less so?) than seeing your kids with traits they picked up from you is seeing them exhibit behaviors they COULD NOT POSSIBLY have absorbed by observation; instead, it must be deeply entrenched in the genes somehow. Matt and I are both a bit borderline OCD at times, and Lizzy is ... some sort of way worse form. She will throw the BIGGEST fit if you don't let her put something away/arrange something EXACTLY as she has either been told, or has inferred for some reason, that it needs to be done.
People think it's cute that she puts things away. It's nice sometimes, but sometimes... Merely VERY SCARY.