He went on to talk about enforced curfews, homework checks, no unsupervised parties, follow-through on consequences when the rules were broken. And, so much more. He spoke of friends and friends of the family with children – some grown, who had no direction in life. Who were having children with no spouse and no job.. Who were still living at home, not going to school, working at Burger King. Some were job hopping because they couldn’t keep one for longer than a few weeks or months because they had no discipline. They had no work ethic. They didn’t know what responsibility was. They didn’t know what those things looked like.
She called the meatwagon. I was disappointed in myself. I was beating up on myself. I let her down. I let Scott and the kids down. I let my parents down. I had to reconcile this somehow, but I didn’t know how to, until I decided that I’d try again in 2020. In the meantime, I’d stay behind and support Pam. If she decided she needed to be crewed I’d drive the car and meet her – as scary as that would be for me, I’d do it for her.
So many parents avoid these proper names, instead opting for pet names. Using proper terminology is uncomfortable for many and using pet names becomes a cultural thing. Now, think about that. Let it sink in. Parents are uncomfortable using proper terminology. They’ll call a penis a weiner, or say flower for vulva, but they don’t call an eye a lookie. Or a nose a smellie.
He opened the door to the office and in his hand was a plate of food. My food. I thanked him and put it down beside me – right of my laptop. It looked so good and smelled even better. I kept typing away, answering emails, rat-a-tat-tat on the keyboard and without missing a beat I typed with only my left hand and grabbed a fork full of tilapia with my right. My glaze never leaving the computer screen.