UNDER THE MICROSCOPE

NEW SPECIMENS OLD SPECIMENS THE SCIENTIST MY LOG CONTACT ME
2003-03-11 - 10:01 p.m.

BEING MY PARENTS

I�m my mother�s daughter. I�m my father�s daughter. When it comes to values, being the daughter of both my parents generally is easy. When it comes to religion, being the daughter of both my parents is a bit more difficult. When it comes to what I do with my day and what I expect of myself, being the daughter of both my parents can be downright impossible.

Yesterday, I started as my father�s daughter. There I was on the road on business in a small town in a Great Lakes state. There I was sleeping in a motel, away from my family, and waking to a breakfast that was not exactly what I liked to eat for breakfast. While Dad eventually took to taking his peanut butter on the road, I don�t think that Cheerios and milk would go well in a suitcase. I went to a meeting and, as my father did before me, drove most of a day to get home.

Later in the day, I was my mother�s daughter. The return from my trip took long enough that I missed the first chauffeuring run of the day. Mr. Philately kindly stepped in but I felt badly pulling him away from work. I�m the Mom. I�m the wife. I�m supposed to make his business life run smoothly. My expectation of myself conflicted with reality. Tired as I was, I stepped in to allow him to go to the post office and I did the second chauffeuring run.

Then, it was back to being Dad again�plus. Or maybe it was Mom. When it comes to my engagement with local politics, I�m not sure. They both showed up for school board meetings but neither of them was crazy enough to run for the office. Campaign involvement was as far as they went. But children are supposed to surpass their parents�or so I�ve heard�and I�m a high achiever. I did the politics thing until very late at night.

Then, it was back to being Mom again. I don�t like cleaning any more than Mom ever did but I accept it as MY job. Sometimes, Mr. Philately helps a bit and twice a week a cleaning lady comes but, like my mother, I�m the one who can throw out what needs to be tossed. I don�t necessarily do it, mind you, but I can. Right now someone has to do it. So, I was the Mom and worked some more today on finding the basement floor.

But I was also the Dad. When I was a child and needed help with science projects, Dad helped. Somehow, now, when Day-Hay needs help with her science fair project, I help. Not helping is not an option when your newly-thirteen-year-old daughter (her birthday was today) is holding a candle to fabrics to test flammability. Who helps may be optional but the helping is part of my view of what my parents did for me and what I should do for my children. So I helped.

I will admit that there are things that I don�t do. My parents never had contact lens nor did I so my inner guide seems not to suffer when Mr. Philately helps with Day-Hay�s contact lenses. My parents rarely drove me to school in middle school and were part of a full carpool in high school so I have no feeling that I should drive my children to school although Mr. Philately sometimes does.

And I�m not blaming my parents. My parents never expected that I would take the myriad things they did and decide that I personally should do them all. Dad was a den father for cub scouts (for a pack that had only den fathers). I�m sure he never intended that I believe that his act required me to be a girl scout leader as part of being a parent. My mother never intended that I would absorb her volunteering in the schools and believe, even while I work outside the home, that I also should put in hours and hours of volunteer time.

No, the problem is with me and my expectations. I need to change. I love my parents but I don�t have to be both of them all at the same time.

And I will change. I just don�t have time to do it this month.

LAST YEAR: Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

LAST FIVE ENTRIES:

Talking Cars
Helping with Mother
Pity My Children
The Return
Disaster Date

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