Raised with Expectations
All of us are raised with certain expectations, both good and bad. Mine were almost entirely good. My parents were successful, and they shared that success with their children. They were caring, and attentive. They were certainly human enough; I am not claiming perfection for them. The main expectation was that they would always be there for us in a true pinch.
They were also members of the WWII generation (I eschew the term “Greatest Generation” for reasons I outline here). They were not predisposed to overt acts of emotion, and as staunchly conservative Catholics, they were not given to displays of vulgarity. Not to say that they were ascetics. They enjoyed good food, good wine, and vacations in far away places. Yet, they came across as that which they largely were, conservative/traditional parents. That means they never swore, at least in front of their children. Except…
The Set Up for a Revelation
One day two of my sisters and I were at home sitting around the breakfast table. We thought we were home by ourselves. There was nothing particularly unusual about the day. I cannot remember if it was summer, or a school day. Nonetheless we were having a discussion. It was not a heated conversation, or an argument. It was just the three of us hanging out. At one point the conversation turned to a topic that did generate a bit of heat. Not angry, as things in our family went, but a bit of heat anyway. At some point in the conversation, I for reasons I am certain were entirely justified, let loose with a hearty “FUCK YOU” to both of my sisters. To which they responded with a completely unjustified “FUCK YOU” directed back at an always innocent me.
Rut Ro
At that point the three of us realized we were not at home alone. We heard our mother walking down the long hallway with a wooden floor. You could hear the clicks of her heels getting louder as she got ever closer to where we were seated. We all looked at each other in terror, because we realized that she was “walking mad”. The condemned sat silently waiting for our judge, jury, and executioner to make her appearance.
All expectations were met…at first. She proceeded to ream us out about how awful we were behaving. She gave us the standard lecture that we were raised better than that and that she and our Dad had been better examples than that. My sisters were giggling at all of this, while I sat stone faced, and in fear.
An Unexpected Turn of Events
After a few moments of this lecture, my mother then looked at the three of us and stated forcefully, “well, fuck the three of you, how does that sound”. Our reactions completely reversed. My sisters were totally mortified and went rigid in silence. I, on the other hand, just about lost it. I had to literally bite my knuckle to keep from laughing hysterically. She then turned and wheeled out of the room in disgust at the verbal pigs she had before her. We sat stunned. Well, my sisters did, I was still laughing uncontrollably. A legendary part of our large family lore had just been laid down. A never to be forgotten, or repeated for that matter, moment had been created.
Really, It was AWESOME!
Looking back on this almost 50 years later, I have much the same reaction as I did in that moment. It was truly awesome. First, it is a hell of a thing to hear a parent who had never sworn at us before, do so. I mean, what could be better for a preteen to hear from a trad/conservative mother than a hearty “fuck you”. It is as funny now in retrospect as it was then. It was also the perfect response. I am not sure my mother ever had as appropriate a parenting moment as she did when she told three of her children “fuck you”.
Second, it established that she was human. This is more important in retrospect than it was at the time. When you have caring, engaged parents you tend to look at them as otherworldly, or superhuman. Certainly not down there in the street with the rest of us human types. Yet, they were people. They were not naïve. They knew the vernacular of the vulgar world and could use it when necessary.
As time went on and I began my own parenting life, understanding this reality was truly beneficial. It was a different world by the time my children came along, and I certainly did not hold back with, as the British would say, “fruity language”. I figured that if they were going to face a world as jacked up as ours, they should be able to handle some profanity.
I also reflected on that story when I fully realized what parenting was all about. That happened when one day my young daughter asked me a question. I cannot remember what it was, but it was one of those that called for a “deep” answer. I literally looked around for some assistance, but quickly realized that she was looking at me as the “wise old man” who had the answers. It was at that moment that I did what I realized my parents had been doing all along, making shit up as you go. That was what my mother did when she was faced with, what was for her, an unprecedented situation. She would never have said such a thing within earshot of her parents and could not conceive of her children doing something like that. So, faced with this unprecedented situation, she made some shit up. In so doing she exposed herself as a human being, drove home the point she wanted to (at least to my mortified sisters anyway), and left me at least with a lifetime lesson in good parenting, not to mention a hugely great story for our family lore. So, thanks Mom for calling me out and delivering the goods when needed, as you did in so many other ways.
Praise Be to God
