If you know my parents, then I do not have to explain how incredible they are. Warm, loving, generous…I can literally go on for days about how amazing they are. Clearly they’ve done a great job raising me and my sister, who by the way, is almost as awesome as I am. But this has not always been the case. There was this horrible phase they went through about the time I was a teenager. I call them the “Dark Years”.
Back in those days, they thought they knew everything. Always telling me what to do, when to be home and right from wrong. Didn’t they know I already knew everything? They were like the wardens and my home was a prison. I could only eat the food my Mom had prepared and she didn’t always take orders. Sure I had my own room, but it didn’t have a view. They spent every last penny they could find sending me to Catholic School so I could have a good education. However I’m sure this was nothing more than a cleverly disguised form of torture. They required me to do chores and never really took the hint when I would forget to do them. Clearly I was not happy about this whole chore situation. I only took care of my responsibilities when they made conditions so unbearable for me that I had no choice but to do my tasks or suffer the inhumane consequence of grounding. As you can see, this was all very exhausting for me, and I’m not sure to this day if they realize what they put me through. They also never appreciated my insane ability to “talk back”. Always trying to silence me when they were talking.
This is a far cry from the parents I have today. When I go to their home for a visit, they make me whatever I want to eat, they allow me to use their over-sized tub with the bubbles. I don’t have to clean up after myself, and there’s never any chores I’m required to do. They bring me a cup of tea, and when my children need something they jump up and state that I should “sit and relax”. Hell, I’d move back in if I could but they accidentally bought a home without enough bedrooms for me and my family. Our conversations are warm and loving. I try not to bring up those “Dark Years” too much. Sometimes I’d really like to let them know how hard it was growing up with them for that short period of time, but I love them enough to just forgive them and move on. Obviously I’ve done a great job raising them.