becoming your parent



There have been a few moments in my adulthood where there were glaring realizations that I have inherited distinct characteristics of my parents. It became all too evident last week when after I tirade of anger over homework Tim said to me, “Hey David, how ya’ doing.”

I lived with my father, David, in high school. There wasn’t a week that went by that I wasn’t in tears at the kitchen table rewriting homework to his satisfaction. Often times we were up past midnight in a battle of the wills.  It was brutal. Topic sentences, clear ideas, enhanced vocabulary, proper grammar, accurate punctuation! 

So, the ‘Braveheart-like’, in-your-face teachings have trickled down a generation.

I had decided afterschool that day we needed to get Briggs’ room organized. When he was done, he was allowed to play with his buddies outside.  

Unfortunately it wasn’t until 8pm that I realized Briggs had forgotten a homework assignment. The directions were to write nine complete sentences about the librarians based on some research he quickly needed to do on the middle school home page. Pretty straight forward. He sat right down and went to work. Once complete, he handed me his paper for review.

The sentences were incomplete and went something like this…”Got bachelors degree from Indiana University.”

I was calm and asked him to reread the directions. He looked at me and said, “They’re good enough.”

I am not sure if it was the attitude that unnerved me so much or the thought of my son doing a half-ass job. But with my husband finally home from a three-week trip to India, I took Briggs by the collar, nearly dragged him down the stairs to the kitchen, and told him to repeat the directions aloud along with his examples. With alligators tears streaming down his face he did so.  I them proceeded to rip up his work and exclaimed start again!

We have a Partner Desk. The kind that you sit across from. I could feel Briggs evil eyes glance at me now and again as he wrote solidly. 

Afterwards, once he had nine well-constructed sentences complete (and this is where the mom characteristics kick in), Briggs asked for not only a hand massage but back massage. 

I figured we both needed it. He needed me to be “loving mom” and I needed the time to apologize for my temper but drive home my objective from earlier.

When we snuggled up in bed (aka Spa Briggs), I said, “I am sorry for losing my temper with you earlier.”

Quick as a fox, he replied, “That’s okay, David.”

We all be become our parents.

One Response to “becoming your parent”

  1. Father David Says:

    It is 6 in the morning and I must go to work soon, will make a much more detailed post as soon as I can get to it. I must have done something right.

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