I was taught to take care of myself. Ever since I was a teenager if I wanted to go somewhere, I’d book my own ticket. If I needed a visa, I made my own appointment. Everything from college applications to homework and even my marriage, I was taught to do it on my own. My parents made sure I fought my own battles, even when those battles were against them.
Once the real world kicked me in the face, it was easy for me to brush the dust off my shoulders and hit the ground running. I was taught that nobody cared who my daddy was, what my uncle did, whom my brother knew or how many books my mom published. It was all on me.
I remember when I was getting married; I furnished my own home all by 22-year-old self. I picked out my china pattern, my linens, even my curtains. My mom said that it would be pointless for her to join me on these errands because we’d just argue and cause a scene that would inevitably lead security to be called. Well maybe not security, but definitely my dad.
And I don’t regret a thing.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps that wasn’t such a great idea. I look around at a lot of the moms and wives I’ve met recently and it’s like they’re from a whole other universe. Now don’t get me wrong, Superdad is awesome… when he wants to be… but if we need something done, it’s usually on me. I book the tickets, I make the reservations, assemble the bouncy chairs and drop the kids off. I spend all day with the construction workers and painters… then I make dinner.
It’s my home and it’s my life, and being the crazy control freak that I am, it would be near impossible for anyone else to help. But wouldn’t my life be so much easier if I didn’t have the incessant need to control every aspect of my loved one’s lives? I have this unrelenting need to fix everything and everyone I care for… everything from Superdad’s relationship with his dad to my friends’ love lives. . And trust me, its bitten me in the ass more than once. But will I ever learn?
Probably not. But hey, isn’t that why we have kids? So we can create the better version of ourselves? It’s like you have a blank canvas that you can start over with. I’ll get them used to healthy food so they’ll never have weight issues. I’ll teach them to be independent and trustworthy. I’ll do everything I wish my parents did. And I had pretty awesome parents.
So here I am with this crazy huge responsibility on me. L and Z. Do I want them to grow up to be independent intelligent women that don’t need a man to take care of them? Or should I teach them to let someone else take the reigns? I know a lot of beautiful smart women whose husbands take care of their every whim. Seriously, everything from changing light bulbs to paying the bus driver. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Again, I guess that’s just what parenting is all about. Striking a balance. Raising independent girls who can let someone else take care of them? Girls who can run the world and make a kickass roast chicken. Girls who are strong enough to stand their ground in their stilettos with a positive outlook on life. I guess that’s what I wish for. That perfect balance. I will never forget the lessons my parents taught me and the number of times my dad told me the same story about Margaret Thatcher, how she ran the country and still made sure to be home in time to make dinner. He wasn’t at all pleased when I constantly reminded him that it must’ve lead to her dementia.
We can do it. We can make a better generation. We can fix the world. I promise you. One kid at a time. If it’s too late to change our ways, maybe we can raise a generation of girls who will refuse to be mistresses. Girls who will refuse to sell their bodies. Girls who will hold their heads up high and make men fall to their knees. We can do it. Lets raise boys who refuse to mistreat women. Boys who will always value and treasure women.
One day people, I promise you it will happen.