I Promise, They Didn’t Do Porn
On my way back home from a beach vacation, my mind kept resonating about my parents and how it is to see them now that I don’t live with them, not even in the same town.
They were there on day one — and I’m not talking about genetics. I’m talking about waking up every 3h for feeding and crying spells or spending all their savings on diapers and formula. That is the kind of mama and papa I’m talking about. They are the real MVPs, and I feel so lucky to have mine in my life.
Seeing them resets all the possible buttons in my head. It’s a complex interaction of emotions between watching how they age and witnessing myself becoming my own version of them, whether I like or not.
We all have different stories and backgrounds. In my case, I am a crazy combination of both my parents. The longer I think about it, the more fascinated I find myself to be. It is a feeling I have no words for, but If I have to choose, I’d call it pride.
My husband lives to remind me I have become a cleaning freak. There is a constant need for rearranging and organizing everything in the kitchen before I go to sleep. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s one of those behavioral traits I have no saying over. My only explanation goes back in the early days when I was yelled at for keeping my room a mess or leaving the toilet-sit up. Bear with me folks, I was only a kid!
I recently read online that the majority of CEOs world-wide, I believe it’s around seventy percent of them, make their beds before leaving home, every morning.
For some reason it made me think of my mom and how she refused to take me to school unless my sheets were smooth and ready for bedtime, like somebody was going to take a nap in my bed while I was learning algebra. Mila you are going to love this one: last time I didn’t do my bed was probably back in 2007, when I left home 30mins before boarding time for my flight.
My dad? Similar situation. I don’t think I can see a picture of my hands or his and identify the owner. How about my constant need for music on every moment of my day, or my daily fights for social justice, even if it comes to cutting the line or police brutality — again, all my dad.
Not everything is beautiful though: I am constantly reminding myself how much I love them, not to yell at mom every time she has a hard time using her phone apps -or even posting on social media. Or their constant need for using plastic and single-use containers for everything.
That same love keeps me from killing them every time they refuse to work out, or when the word “recycle” has no space in their vocabulary — definitely a baby-boomers issue.
I remember thinking as a kid I had the most unexciting parents: not rich, nor poor so there are not inspiring stories for my children. I have no recollection of my dad fighting with a bear while camping — or even assembling a camping tent.
Sorry, but my parents didn’t do porn and hid it from me or were part of any drug cartel. They used their time to raise healthy kids, fed them every day and taught them how to fight for their own success — and god, am I thankful for that today.
It’s pretty safe to say they are every answer, to every question I ask about myself: my thinking process, the way I see society and family, my thighs -unfortunately-, the way I brush my hair and call my dog as soon as I open the door. My not-easy-to-please sweet tooth, the love for dancing and traveling. Point made — I am nothing without their inheritance.
I think I’ll study something different every 5 years of my life until I’m 80 and my dad is to blame for that. How about my love for writing? It comes from being behind the scenes every time mom had to give a speech. Again, nothing without them.
I feel so humble now that I am in my early 30s, for being able to pick up the check, or to host for them. I can’t wait to teach my kids the lullabies I was sang to at bedtime. It is so rewarding to flip the coin and pay them back for all the sleepless nights when I was a kid. I am just so relieved this time around it doesn’t include breastmilk or loaded diapers.
