Sunday, December 4, 2011
Sometimes, the mom is right...
As a parent, I wonder if this will ever change. Will my kids awake one day and realize how wrong they've always been? Is there a certain time in their lives when this miracle will occur? And then, today, I got my answer--and not necessarily the way I wanted my answer to come.
See we've had a lot of snow as of late. And yesterday was no exception. I had to drive my daughter across town to Arvada West for a cheer competition. I don't know if the weather gurus simply forgot about Friday night's storm, but there was not a clear road to be found. I was crawling all the way there, as not even the highways were plowed. It was not fun... After being on the road for an hour, and after dropping Marissa off at the high school, I made my way to my mom's house. I'd be picking her up so she could go to the competition. It was when I turned onto her street when my car began to slide. Seriously. After all that driving, this was when I'd crash. I started to pump my brakes and my car stopped about a foot away from someone's fence. I backed on out of there and made it safely into my mom's driveway. As we drove past the tire marks that led right up to the fence, I told my mom they were mine. I proudly declared how I had to pump the brakes to stop. To these remarks, she began to scold. "Don't pump the brakes! That will make it worse." I shook my head in disgust--what does she know? Obviously not a lot or she wouldn't be dishing out this crap advice. I did avoid the fence, didn't I? After giving my mom a brief lecture on how to drive in the snow, she dropped the issue. Whatever.
And then I got home. And told Kent about what happened. And he told me how I could ruin my anti-lock brakes by pumping them. How they could stop functioning. How the car's braking system is designed to pump the brakes themselves, therefore giving the driver control. Blah. Blah. Fricken' blah. Whatever. And no, I wasn't about to call my mom.
This morning the phone rang, and I saw the familiar faces of my parents pop up on the screen. Usual Sunday call. No, not quite. I answer to my mom's voice, who doesn't say hello or how are you or any kind of courtesy. No. I get a "Hold on your father wants to speak to you." Whatever.
And before my dad can begin his anti-lock braking system lecture, I cut him off with a "I know, Kent already told me." We wrap up our conversation, and hang up. There was a chuckle on his end of the line, and annoyance on mine. So I was wrong, who cares?
Literally 30 seconds after I hang up, the phone rings again. Same faces appear. "Hello?" I ask to whom I know immediately is my mom. "Is there anything you'd like to say because after all I believe I told you about the brakes yesterday?" "Yes, mother. You were right." And those five words seemed to give her some ultimate satisfaction.
And that's when I realized, that I've been her daughter for 41 years. There's probably been a handful of times when she's heard those words from me. And with my head shaking, I realized that it's going to be an awfully long time before my kids realize how right I am...