THE FACADE

When we are young, we see our parents through the eyes of a child. Even if they are wrong, our parents are right. Our fathers are invincible heroes who can do no wrong; and our mothers are the protectors and nurturers, the one we run to for comfort and encouragement after getting pushed down in the playground. I remember clearly when I started to see my parents through the eyes of an adult. Their flaws and human frailties suddenly very apparent. It was a true turning point in my life. It was both a crushing disappointment and tremendous relief.

If you were to look at my childhood from the outside, you would think it was typically unremarkable. My dad was a seemingly successful business owner, my mother the social butterfly and happy homemaker, and my little sister was the kid you couldn't shake, but somehow didn't mind having around. We were well-respected in a community where there were few secrets. I believed it all for a long time...that we were the normal, upper middle-class, suburbanites. It was one of those things that if you say it often enough it becomes true. But after years of denial, contemplation, and handfuls of various mind-altering drugs, the reality of the cluster fuck we lived in was so obvious, I wonder how it was I hadn't seen it sooner. The truth was, my dad was a chronic philandered who did tons of drugs and whose associates were more likely to be on wanted posters than on the society page. My mom wore the nicest clothes and was dripping in jewelry, but she was nothing more than a door mat who buried her head to the realities of what was going on around her. To protect my sister's privacy, I won't go into detail about her "issues" when we were kids, but it is safe to say that she truly suffered a miserable childhood.

Now, well into their 60's, my mom and dad will tell you that they were a product of the time (the 70's and 80's), and that how they/we lived was "just how it was then". A couple of years ago, my dad apologized to my sister and me for being a "bad father". He recognized the inappropriateness of some of the things we were exposed to, and said if he had it to do again, he would have done it differently. Some may think that was a welcome comment, but it was just the opposite for me. It broke my heart to think that my father believed himself to be a bad parent. Parenting is a crapshoot. No parent says, "Ya know...I think I'm going to be the shittiest parent I can. I really want to fuck up my kids so I'm going to do everything I can to make sure they end up without moral fiber". Parents do the best they can. They make the only decisions they know how. They repeat the same mistakes their parents made, the ones they promised themselves they never would.

I have a wonderful relationship with both my mother and my father. My mom is an integral part of my life and the lives of my children. I kiss the ground she walks on and thank God for her everyday. My dad is still my hero. A little less invincible than I once thought, but still a great man. A man of character, who has taught me more about life than anyone I know. I was never one of those people who believed in the notion that everything we are today is a result of how we were raised. Scientists and sociologists have made entire careers out of studying it. Nature vs. Nurture or something like that. Yes, our parents instill in us the framework for who we are, but the decisions we make on a day-to-day basis are entirely within our own power. In a perfect world, a parent teaches a child the basics...that its wrong to steal and lie; cheating is not the way to win; be kind to babies and puppies (Ten Commandment kinda stuff).

All things considered, even with all their flaws and imperfections, I suppose my mother and father did that and more for me. I can only hope to do the same for my children.

MIDDLE GROUND

My world is Black or White...with nothing in between. Gray escapes me. Apparently, I've been this way forever. If you were to ask my mother, she would tell you that growing up I was either the little girl who cried at the sight of the first crocuses working their way out of the partially thawed soil at the start of Spring; or I was the keniving child who expertly worked the system.

The only difference between me now and me then is the setting. There aren't anymore crocuses, and its been years since I was able to manipulate my parents against each other. Now, its just me and the way I conduct myself in my personal and professional lives. Its not that Black and White is necessarily Good or Bad, but it does make everything so much more complicated than it has to be.

The White. I am meticulous at work - a trusted and valued employee; singly handedly keeping the man pointed in the right direction; everything has a place; every dollar is accounted for; typos, no way. When it comes to friends and family, I am the go to girl. Have a problem, I am all ears; need a ride, I'm on my way; family crisis, sure I'll mediate. My last dollar? Take it. Its yours. I was on my way home from picking up my daughter from dance the other night. We passed a lady broken down in her car. U-turn. In high heels and dressed from work, I pushed that lady's car until she was safely off the road. Taking care of every detail of everyone else's life is what I do best.

The Black. Some of the Black is the usual two kids, a dog and full time working mom stuff. Most of it is simply unacceptable. There are some people who thrive on chaos. Those who aren't happy unless there is a fire to put out somewhere. I have come to terms with the fact that I am one of those people. Bottom line, my personal life is a trainwreck.

Fiscal (ir)responsibility. Normal people open the mail that comes from their bank. I never do. Most people sit down at least once a month and balance their checkbook. Not me. I have no regard for a running balance, and as long as the bank lets me charge, I am one with my debit card. The only time I open any bank mail is when the envelope is really thin. Then I know its a notice telling me that I am overdrawn. This is not an exaggeration. I recently paid $33.00 for a cheeseburger happy meal ($3.00 for the food, and $30.00 in overdraft charges).

There is a place for everything, and everything has a place. Not in my world. I swear I spend 20 minutes of every day looking for something. It doesn't matter what that something is (a pair of earrings, the car keys, a permission slip, the match to the only pair of shoes that goes with the outfit I have on). I recently spent 3 minutes frantically searching for a condom in the middle of a hot and heavy make out session because I couldn't remember where I hid the damn things. Three minutes might not seem like a long time, but those were 3 less minutes of good lovin' I could have been having.

Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today. The consequences of procrastination and disorganization range from humorous to absurd to blatantly stupid. Regardless of the degree, its just another recipe for ajita in any already complicated world.
The absurd - I am so disorganized and disconnected at times that I don't know the kids have off from school until they tell me. ("What do you mean summer vacation starts today?!?!"). Appointments are only kept because those nice people in the doctor's office are smart enough to call to confirm the day before. Yes, I have a calendar. No, I never open it (see bank mail above).
The blatantly stupid - I have actually had utilities turned off because I didn't pay a bill. Don't be alarmed - money is not a problem. I just wait and wait and wait until well past the past due date, then I write the check. But, I have to drive around with the envelope for another few weeks because everyone knows how hard dropping it in a mailbox is.
The humorous - I stopped to get a card for my mom last Mother's Day. If we were dealing with a normal person, under normal circumstance, this act would be unremarkable. But this is me, so I should probably mention that at that time I stopped to buy the card, I was already late for Mother's Day dinner. There were slim pickins' left in the card isle, so I couldn't be too picky. I chose the one with the big red rose and the silver glitter. What mushy sentiment the card I ended up with expressed I couldn't tell you, since the only cards that were left at 7:00 on Mother's Day Sunday were in Spanish.

Anyone see a pattern here?

Gray is Good.