You're Wearing That?

Mother, Daughter relationships...yikes!

Our family would pile into the car on week-ends and head to Gooding to see Aunt Adrian and Uncle Carl. Aunt Adrian was my mother's older sister. Mom was more like a daughter to her. She lived with them in-between marriages, and maybe even before. Uncle Carl, was a man's man. Tall, handsome, a cowboy...the strong silent type with an emphasis on silent. Needless to say, we were there to impress. Even though it was an hour and a half trip at the most, we would have to stop outside of town at a gas station... to clean-up. We were always dressed in the best of whatever we had, and our hair washed, conditioned, shined and curled. We were never allowed to disagree or make a fuss. And we never sat in Uncle Carl's chair! Remarkably, I loved going there. It meant Dad and Mom would get along all week-end.

But, I digress...my point is that we learned at an early age, that children were to be seen and not heard...unless we were asked to sing, or play the piano, or recite something we had learned in school. And we learned that there was a right way to dress, to wear our hair, to sit, to walk....Nothing was left to chance...we were there to make mom look great.

This lesson in behavior created a dynasty of perfectionists. Never good enough, pretty enough, rich enough, fun enough, smart enough...you get the picture.

Knowing this as a young adult, I vowed to never put those kind of restrictions on my children. I wanted them to have their own identity. To feel confident disagreeing with their elders...to express themselves through their clothes and hair syles....to be an individual.

I felt the condemnation of my own siblings, who had learned their lessons well. But I stood my ground and all in all, I think I did a pretty good job, I mean, an ok job... well I could have done better....oh, just say it...I really messed up!

MKC