My parents gave me one of the longest leashes of all parents I know. My mom would say about her children, “My kids raised themselves.” This statement was not true, but my brother, sister, and I stayed within a narrow band of behavior—never too crazy, always moderately respectable. Thus, I believe what mom was saying was, “My kids never required me to put tight controls on their behavior.”
Often, this freedom gave me opportunities to grow. Sometimes, this freedom could be manipulated. Other times, a little more restriction or guidance would have been helpful.
However, one specific Christmas, their long leash was long enough to let me get tangled within it. That lesson, which was never spoken, only experienced, changed my own parenting and gave me a respect for my parents that continues to this day. (Can you still respect you mom after she’s passed away? I think so.)
Middle school into high school was an interesting transition for our family. Allow me to set the table while we get to that specific Christmas. You need to know my parents and their vibes.
For one, sometime in eighth grade we illegally went to school. That is, we moved about 45 minutes away from my school district but didn’t change our address. Every morning, dad drove east to his job and mom drove my brother and me west to our illegal school. My sister, who was finishing high school, was living with friends so she could finish without moving.
Well, we finally got caught. An administrator approached mom at her work and she immediately had to get us from school. Kicked out. Gone. No more education. My brother and I were left without a school.
Mom, ever the planner, found an apartment back in our school district, rented it, and we were there within a day or two. I remember when an administrator called me into the office at that same school and handed me a “return to sender” envelope with our illegal address on it.
“Can you explain this?”
“Yep. That was our address but we don’t live there anymore. We just moved into an apartment a couple miles away.”
“Umm. Ok.”
Then I went back to class. Case closed.
Over the next year or two we built a house closer to the school and moved in there. The Christmas tree sat in a dining room at the bottom of a nice, curved staircase. You could always see the tree as you descended the stairs.
A Necklace and Cologne
This Christmas, in particular, I was probably a sophomore or junior—gosh, I hope I wasn’t a senior. I wanted a cross necklace and some cologne. Why? High school in the late 90s.
However, I didn’t want just any cross necklace or cologne. I wanted the cross necklace that was made from two nails that the Christian dudes wore. Those who know, know. Coolness was that necklace.
For the cologne, I don’t know what I wanted but it had to be something trendy. Not the Calvin Klein unisex ones (CK One, CK Be) because I’d hate my life half-smelling like a girl. Cool Water was one I’d gotten before, maybe that. Joop would be okay. Tommy Hilfiger would be the coolest. A few years prior I got the quarter-ounce Tommy cologne and felt like a boss. (Apparently, someone sells this “vintage” cologne for a buck per hundredth of an ounce.)
I was ready to be amazed and then amaze.
“Can I Have It?”
The only problem? The cross necklace I got was more of a larger pewter cross on a beaded ball chain. It would’ve hung down to my solar plexus. The cologne was Drakkar Noir. You can buy that cologne at Walmart. I didn’t want Walmart cologne!
(Please know that even as I type these words, I still feel the embarrassment and shame of my childish, ungrateful, highly selfish behavior. )
I let my parents know I wanted nothing to do with those gifts. I probably even said, “I don’t want them.” My parents were well within their rights to murder me, banish me, or shame me in front of the family. I deserved it.
Instead, they did something worse. They did not correct me; they just took the gifts themselves.
My mom looked at that necklace and said, “Well would it be okay if I wore it?”
“Sure.”
My dad, seeing my dislike for Walmart cologne asked, “Can I use it?”
“Of course.”
In half a second they did something far worse than confront me; they let my childish behavior simply exist. They didn’t correct it. They didn’t need to. They knew I was being a fool and there was no reason to force me to have to defend it; it was already indefensible.
Christmas went on without any issues. I was not in the dog house. I was not grounded. We continued to see family, have fun, and move forward.
Sometimes Silence Teaches Better Lessons
My parents’ longer leash meant that, at times, I received the freedom to roam around in my childish emotions. Correction, while important, isn’t always needed—especially as you age.
I am often quick with my own children to try and tell them what they did wrong and what the better behavior would look like. You know what? They don’t always need that. We have two high schoolers and one fast approaching it. Now is the time to roam.
My parents taught me that sometimes silence teaches better lessons.
I hate that lesson because of how true it is.
For years upon years my mom wore that necklace. I’d see it when she got home from work, I saw it when she dressed up for Christmas, I’d see it when she dressed casually after a long day. There it was: a constant reminder that ingratitude has long-lasting repercussions. And, as odd as it feels, grace existed for me in my parents’ kindness simply to take the gifts themselves and let me watch Christmas unfold.
Sometimes we’d all be better saying less.
As always, I’d love to hear how these posts connect with you. Where have you stepped in too quickly? Where have you been given enough freedom to fail in big ways? Reply to let me know.
Author’s Commentary: If you’d like to hear the story behind the story, see below.
Thanks for bringing me back to all the times my parents said we are not angry just dissapointed.