Soon after I gave birth to my daughter, people
warned me about the changes that would occur in my parents. I was
regaled with stories that the straight-laced, responsible adults that had
been in charge of my care and upbringing would suddenly take leave of their
senses. The rules that their children had to abide by would no longer apply
to the next generation. I anticipated this with my father; it was
not a stretch for him, since he had difficulty denying my sister and me
much of anything. But my mother?
When my sister and I were kids, our mother had such
a lengthy list of rules that, if bound, would make Gone With the Wind look
like a short story. As Moses received the Ten Commandments to pass
to his people, so our mother laid down her laws to us. These rules, like
the commandments were set in stone, and to break one meant a swift and
severe punishment. So, it was with a mixture of shock, amusement, and slight
sense of betrayal that I witnessed the changes in my mother over the next
several years. As if out of a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers,
my mother has been replaced with a kinder, gentler, more laid-back version,
especially where her granddaughter is concerned. Suddenly, crumbs
are a minor inconvenience, eating in your bedroom is acceptable, an unmade
bed is no longer a major violation. Money flows freely, and shopping
is practically an everyday occurrence.
This is not my mother!
A few days ago I stopped at my parents house for a
visit. Mom was in the family room, but Taylor was nowhere in sight.
"Taylor upstairs?" I asked plopping down on the side
of the couch.
My mother looked up from what she was reading. "Sit
on the cushions, you're going to break my furniture. (Rule number
8: "Treat my furniture improperly and you can sit on the floor with the
dog!") Taylor is in the living room."
Allow me to explain about my mother's living room.
When we were kids, this room had an invisible red-velvet rope draped across
the doorway. We were not allowed in there unless something needed
cleaning, and even then, there was a time limit.
My mother would dust the living room for fingerprints
to make sure we hadn't wandered into a part of the room we weren't allowed.
She kept the plastic on her couch for 20 years to make sure we didn't ruin
the fabric.
She knew if her drapes had been touched, or if a knick-knack
was a millimeter out of place. I think "Thou shall not enter my living
room without permission" was rule #5. No, wait, that was rule #4. Rule
#5 was "Store your shoes in their boxes or walk around in your bare feet.
" Anyway, I digress. "What's she doing?" I asked, the hairs on the back
of my neck beginning to stand on end.
Completely nonplussed and still engrossed in her magazine,
Mom replied, "She's sitting on the couch, eating cookies, drinking
a soda, and reading a book. Just like she always does" "And this
is okay with you? What if she spills something or makes a mess?" I asked,
my mind floating back simultaneously to twenty years of my childhood and
to the day before when Taylor spilled a full glass of orange juice on my
brand new rug.
"Then she'll clean it up. You need to lighten
up, she's just a kid," was my mother's reply.
My head was spinning. It was official; my mother had
gone over to the dark side with all the other grandparents. It was bad
enough that the woman who had rules for everything, such as never polishing
furniture against the grain, and white clothes should always be washed
first, had just told me that it was okay for her granddaughter to eat and
drink in her living room. I could even live with her newfound theory that
making a mess was okay.
However, she crossed the line, when, to add insult
to injury, she accused me of being an uptight mother.
Now, where in the world would I have learned that?
It was too much for me to comprehend. I walked toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" mom called.
"To make sure the planets haven't aligned. I
think the end of the world is
near. Plus, I'm thirsty."
Mom, who had gone back to reading her book, looked
up briefly and replied,
"Don't make a mess."
Ah, rule number 2, "Don't make a mess," and rule number
3 "If you must make a mess, doesn't let me find out." I knew she was still
in there somewhere.
Editors Note: Thank you so much for sharing that article. K.A. has an interesting perspective on life. She is able to find humor in everything. Something we should all do. So many people take life so seriously. We need to find the humor in things. We would all live a happier and healthier life. If you've enjoyed her stories as much as I have, I urge you to check outher new e-book, Moments of Clarity. Sure to make you laugh. I personally recommend this book. Below is a brief book description by K.A. Francis.
Moments
of Clarity
A compilation of essays in which K.A. attempts to
deal with life, kids, pets, a husband that just doesn't get it, a job that's
out to get her, parents who are old enough to be wise, but young enough
to enjoy watching her go insane, the world in general, and her attempt
to cope with it all by finding the humor in life.
Weekly columnist www.einkwell.com (Moments of Clarity)
Want a Free Excerpt from Moments of Clarity? Click
the link!
Moments
of Clarity by KA Francis (book) .