Confession #4: Maybe my parents were right. Oh God, I can’t believe I just wrote that. I’ve spent the majority of my life questioning and toeing the line of my parents’ thoughts and beliefs. I’ve always been the stubborn one, the one to give 10 examples as to why jumping off the roof of the house into the pool is a good idea, and the one that NEVER thought my parents had a clue what it was like to be me. In the grand circle of life, God has blessed me with a clone named Samantha. Good Lord, this kid couldn’t be more like her mother in just about everyway possible. She’s constantly saying to me, “Mom you just don’t understand!” She gives me the look that I still give my parents every now and then. The “Oh my God, I have no idea how you make it through life” look. The “You couldn’t be more clueless if you tried” look. The last time she gave me “the look” I ended up spending the night pondering the question, “What if my parents did actually know what they were talking about?” What if I had stopped crying over being dumped and realized that just like they said, the boy with pin rolled pants and a beat up 1981 rusted out car was not the love of my life? What if I would’ve appreciated the time my dad took to sit at the kitchen table with me night after night in the attempt to help me pass algebra? Would my life have been better? Would I have been happier and less “Oh my God, my life is over?” The truth is I can’t go back and change the past. However, from this day forward I’m going to attempt, yes attempt, to put a little more faith in my parents. I’m going to seek out their advice more often and try to learn from their triumphs and defeats. As far as Samantha goes, at this point I’m just gonna call it a win if one day she lays in bed at night pondering, “What if my parent’s were right?”
The day this one actually looks at me like I’m not a complete idiot will go down in the history books!