As I was getting ready to go to my church's annual ladies ornament swap this week, Addie was following me around the house. She was questioning me about every move I made. "Is that the shirt you are going to wear?" "You doing your hair like that, Mommy?" "Who is going to be there?" "Is Micah's mommy going to be there?" "Is Brooks' mommy going to be there?" "What other friends are going to be there?" This questioning continued until my mother arrived and distracted her by starting to cook spaghetti for supper.
I was chatting with Addie's Sunday School teacher when I arrived and was telling her about the questioning I had gone through. She laughed because that is so typical of Addie to be so inquisitive. And then she said that Addie was just being "motherly" and wanted to make sure I was going somewhere that she approved and that I would be safe.
I ended up staying a bit too late because I was having such a great time that I just didn't want to leave. When I got home, Addie met me at the door, "did you have fun with your friends?" I sure did. I walked into the kitchen where the pile of dishes I had left in the sink were gone. Warm spaghetti was on the stove. Both girls had been bathed and were in pjs. My mom was sitting on the couch reading to Avie, and my dad & Adam were in an intense debate over football. I sat down and told my mother every detail of the night. She listened as if it were the most interesting thing she had ever heard. After my parents, the Incredibles, had left, I sat on the couch for a long time, consumed with just being grateful for them. I began to think about Addie again and how sweet it was that she wanted to know everything that I was going to do. It reminded me of when I was younger and my mother's line of questioning before I left the house. I wish that I had thought of it as sweet back then.
When I was growing up, I felt like my parents were more strict than anyone else's, and they probably were. I remember so many times that I wasn't allowed to do things that everyone else did. Simple little things like wandering around with friends at a football game...I had to stay put. Or going to a dance at the rec center by myself...I went once and my dad had to stay the whole time. Or getting dropped off at the movies...Or spending the night with friends who my parents didn't know their parents. If I went to a baseball game, I wasn't allowed to walk over to the park next to it with all my friends, I had to stay inside the ball park. I wasn't allowed to go out both nights of the weekend, and I wasn't allowed to go out several weekends in a row. I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone for too long, and I certainly wasn't allowed to call boys on the phone. Whew, even now it sounds a little excessive. But I am so thankful for it. I certainly didn't appreciate it then, but now I intend to raise my girls the same way.
I have the greatest memories of my parents growing up. My dad has always been such a hard worker. He went through school and worked at the same time when we were little and worked two jobs after that. He was gone a good bit, but he made up for it when he was home. I remember him letting us put every single hair bow we owned in his hair, and that was a lot because there were three of us. I remember him playing and wrestling with us in the floor even after he had worked all day and was probably exhausted. I'm pretty sure dad is the one who taught me to Indian leg wrestle and I bet I can still beat anyone at it. Riding in the truck with him I got to hear a lot of great music, most of which are still my favorites and still remind me of him. And after a long day of shopping with my mom, my dad would sit and watch me model everything that I got, even though he didn't care one bit about clothes and probably didn't approve of most of them. I can remember sitting in his shop with him while he filled shotgun shells and that sometimes he would let me help. I remember him teaching me to ride my bike. I never was great at it because I am the least coordinated person in the world, but I can still hear him telling me to look out ahead of me instead of looking down. Without fail, my dad would be cleaning his guns whenever a boy came to the house. Most importantly, I remember waking up every Sunday morning to find him sitting at the table studying his bible.
Although my mom stayed home with us when we were young, she was a hard worker also. She always kept the house so clean and everything had a place. I remember when she went to work that she made us a chore chart of things that had to be done before she got home. Our chores even rotated each day so we all did equal amount of work. More than keeping the house clean, I think that was her way of keeping us from eating junk in front of the tv for the entire hour and a half before she got home. Because dad worked away from home so much, I remember my mom always being the one who cut the grass. After she cut the grass, we would have to go rake and clean it up. She went to my grandmothers probably every week and cleaned. And after my grandfather got sick, she went more often than that, cooking, cleaning, and helping take care of him. She has always been such a great caregiver. I got very sick with mono when I was in the 7th grade. (And, no, I hadn't kissed anyone...how unfair is that? Get sick with the "kissing disease" and have never even been kissed?!) I was extremely sick with it. I don't know exactly how much school I missed, but it seemed like months. I couldn't eat and lost a lot of weight. I ran a fever all the time and was very weak. I don't think my mother ever left my side. I remember her picking me up, a 7th grader, and carrying me down the hall to sit me in a cool bath when my fever was too high. She was just as great when I was in 10th grade and my sister and I were involved in a car accident. I was a little traumatized by the whole experience, I wasn't saved yet and it scared me to death, and I treated my mother horribly. But she stayed right there with me and even came to school with me my first day back to carry my books. She spent countless hours helping me catch up on all the work I missed while I was out. She was always great at that though. Every evening after school when I was little, I would sit at the kitchen table and do my homework while mom cooked supper. In the 9th grade, I was given the opportunity to go to New York City with a small group from school. I was a little nervous to have my mom go with me, but didn't really want to go without her either. I had the greatest time being there and experiencing that with her. We did all the tourist stuff, a lot of which I don't remember because we were all over the place. But I do remember getting to see the twin towers and I have a beautiful picture of them that I took. I'm not sure what it was, but I began to see her in a different way on that trip. I remember that there was a girl there who kept being rude to my mom, and my mom never said anything to her. At one point I got so fed up with it and felt so protective of mom that I finally stood up to the girl, who was twice my size, and I told her that she was not allowed to speak to my mother for the rest of the trip. Thankfully, the girl didn't pound me into the ground and just backed off.
I can look at my life now and see so many similarities between the things my parents did and the things Mr Wonderful and I do. We think it is important to shelter the girls from the world...they will have to deal with it soon enough. When I blog, I refer to my parents as "the Incredibles" and that is exactly what I think of them. Mr. Wonderful and I respect their opinion so much and ask for it often. They are the most thoughtful and generous people I know. I have never called my mother for anything when she didn't come running. And often, I don't have the opportunity to ask her for anything because she is already offering. My dad is the same way. If I just mention something that needs to be done, he immediately makes plans to handle it. Watching him spend time with my little girls thrills my soul. I love to see them together. Oh, and the girls think my mother hung the moon. They squeal with delight at the slightest mention of either Gran or Papa.
I know that I am 29 years old and I need to grow up. I shouldn't be so dependent on my parents when I have children of my own. But I can't imagine my life without them in it. I call my mother almost every day just to chat. She is still my mother, but she is also my closest friend. With her I can confide anything. She keeps me grounded. She tells me when I'm out of line. She listens to me vent. She doesn't take it personal when I'm in a bad mood. She cries with me when things aren't going well. She is genuinely happy for me when I am happy. She holds me accountable. She understands me in a way that no one else ever has.
I am thankful for my sheltered childhood and for the incredible influence of my parents. Proverbs 22:6 says that if you train a child up in the way he should go, when he is old he will not depart from it. I may have strayed pretty far from the way my parents taught for a while, but I am happy to say that I am older now and have no intentions of departing.
