My extended family
I don't think that a strong network of adults who are not your parents can be overestimated.
Last night the father of a friend of mine from high school (middle school, elementary school, you get the idea) called me to say he was in town for business and could he take me to dinner? Well of course, because he is basically family. I met him after work and ate a meal with a man whose backyard I have run through sprinklers in, whose house was the site of my first kiss and whose daughter is inextricably linked to almost every memory I have from ages 5-16.
And this is not the first time something like this has happened. I went to dinner with a mother of another good friend of mine from home over the summer and I felt something similar: these are people who I grew up in front who now want to engage me on an adult level. I guess I should be thankful that they don't hold me to my adolescent miscues (sorry about that painting/table/liquor cabinet) but there's something surreal about talking to these people as equals. The interaction is further complicated by the fact that you both know the same people, their children and your parents, but in very different ways. I am firm believer that the "don't ask, don't tell" policy can never be applied too liberally when it comes to the antics of a child to one of their parents and vice versa. So where does that leave the conversation?
I find myself sharing more with these pseudo-parents expressly because they just that: pseudo. They have a mindset of a parent and the same values that my parents do, but without the added baggage of having raised me. I can use them as a dress rehearsal for when I have to get up the nerve to tell my parents that thing, so to speak. There is a certain amount of cartharsis that comes with this opportunity and I am eternally grateful for it.
Plus, who am I to pass up a free dinner?
Last night the father of a friend of mine from high school (middle school, elementary school, you get the idea) called me to say he was in town for business and could he take me to dinner? Well of course, because he is basically family. I met him after work and ate a meal with a man whose backyard I have run through sprinklers in, whose house was the site of my first kiss and whose daughter is inextricably linked to almost every memory I have from ages 5-16.
And this is not the first time something like this has happened. I went to dinner with a mother of another good friend of mine from home over the summer and I felt something similar: these are people who I grew up in front who now want to engage me on an adult level. I guess I should be thankful that they don't hold me to my adolescent miscues (sorry about that painting/table/liquor cabinet) but there's something surreal about talking to these people as equals. The interaction is further complicated by the fact that you both know the same people, their children and your parents, but in very different ways. I am firm believer that the "don't ask, don't tell" policy can never be applied too liberally when it comes to the antics of a child to one of their parents and vice versa. So where does that leave the conversation?
I find myself sharing more with these pseudo-parents expressly because they just that: pseudo. They have a mindset of a parent and the same values that my parents do, but without the added baggage of having raised me. I can use them as a dress rehearsal for when I have to get up the nerve to tell my parents that thing, so to speak. There is a certain amount of cartharsis that comes with this opportunity and I am eternally grateful for it.
Plus, who am I to pass up a free dinner?
posted by Libberash at 12:28 AM
1 Comments:
Oh, I really like that! Jen and I have several people like that in our lives... it's fun to raise eyebrows by talking about our four moms.
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