Oh, I Could Never Tell My Parents That!

In my childhood, my mother was the Sergeant and I was the private-in-training. She took this job seriously and I am grateful. We tangled, we fussed and we certainly had our years of tussles.

I'm not sure how she did it. She let me go from the child she was responsible for to a friend. To his credit, my father was and is a great buffer.

Lots of my friends are close with their parents. They love them and care for them. I try to do the same and I know I make them crazy sometimes. My mother still falls into drill Sergeant mode and I still become the rebellious child. (This is usually when one of us hangs up.)

We have our own version of communication. If I do something stupid or embarrassing, I tell my mother and she tells my father. If I'm scared, I do not hesitate to tell them. If I'm angry, I like to tell my mother because I'm convinced she has some magical powers and maybe she can put the whammy on them.

We're all clued in that we talk about each other. If I'm with my father, my mother is certain we are dissecting her. When she says to me, "your father and I were talking last night." I get a little nervous. My father gave up long ago -- he knows we discuss him.

I've tried to figure out how this works and I think it comes down to brutal honesty and wacky humor. When my father had a bad reaction (not life-threatening) to a medication last week, my mother described it to me in detail. I laughed so hard the husband was considering CPR.