Stuck in graduation traffic selfie.
Since my Dad died last year, I have noticed an increasing lack of decorum in my writing, particularly, and sometimes in my speech. Perhaps, the portion of my brain that deals with trauma overtook the decorum center. I have never really been a cuss word kind of person, but, over the last year the “f-bombs” have been a-dropping. I often edit them out later. I am a gainfully employed by the public school in my area and would like to stay that way. Also, I teach Sunday school…
In June, my daughter graduated from high school. She did NOT want to attend the ceremony and made sure I knew she was only doing it for me. Her graduating class was so big, the ceremony was held at an Equestrian center about 45 minutes from our town. There was construction on the road leading to the venue. I factored all this in to our travel time and we left early enough to account for it, but it was awful and increased everyone’s anxiety, particularly my daughter’s. She really, really didn’t want to be there. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how badly she didn’t want to be there until it was too late.
At one point, Siri steered on an alternate route that was supposed to save us some time. As luck would have it, I missed a turn because I couldn’t read the road signs in time. I found a place to make a u-turn in order to get back on track, only to be met with pedestrians. I said it, loudly and with gusto.
And then immediately apologized to my children, to which my daughter replied, “It’s OK Mom. I say it all the time!”
Oh well…parenting does have a rather humbling effect on a girl.
Recently, my oldest child (officially my step son from my now defunct marriage. He grew in my heart not under it) stopped by for a few minutes to give me money (he’s on my cell phone plan) and as usual stayed around to chat. I like it when he hangs out with us. Mike was very excited about some podcast he is currently listening to. It had something to do with aliens and creepy de-classified government hocus pocus.
As he read a transcript aloud to us, he kept saying, “‘F’ this and ‘F’that.”
“Mike, just say, f***. It’s OK.”
His eyes widened.
“Right, David? I say it.”
“I’ve heard it once.” Most likely during the aforementioned “incident.” Maybe I’m not as bad as I thought…
Mike continued to read the transcript…this time with “f***s” loud and proud.
At any rate, as my children have reached the age of maturity (2 down, 1 to go), it has been interesting to note how our relationships change. They’ll always be my babies, but interacting with them as adults, having adult conversations, relating to each other about the b***sh** sides of adulthood (car/insurance payments anyone?) is definitely rewarding. Standing back and letting them fail on their own two feet is hard…but necessary.
And…I get to say the “f” word!