The List: #3

Pressing on with the list:
#3:  Describe your relationship with your parents.

Let me just start by saying that my parents deserve some sort of award for putting up with me as a teenager. 

Like...something involving a large sum of money.

I wasn't a goth, never got arrested, didn't do drugs; 

but, boy was I a treat. 

Some of you know that I have quite the attitude. Especially when I'm in a bad mood.

Or when I haven't had food..

And I can control it now, for the most part. But those teenage hormones did absolutely nothing good for my mood. 

So, with that said. 

My parents.

Oy. 

This will probably be the hardest one to write simply because I have so much to say.

I have had the most normal life that any girl could have. Sure, our family has had it's pitfalls, but when it comes down to it, I have lived a life comparable to that of a 1960's TV show. 

My parents are still [sickeningly] in love, something that not a lot of kids can say. Which is exactly what shaped me into the person that I am. Not only do they show each other love, [still, and despite our pleads for them to stop ;)] but they have always showed myself and my brother & sister unconditional love, something a child desperately needs. 

 

My pops -

and I have always been close, mainly because I grew up a tom-boy [I know, hard to believe] and enjoyed watching sports, playing outside in my boy's jean shorts [good lord..] and stayed away from boys as much as possible [chance of cooties]. 

When I got older, I slowly adopted his love of computers and/or technology in general so we gabbed on about that as much as possible. And when I went to college for computer engineering, he wholly supported me, knowing I would be one of the few girls in the program, not to mention coming in with one of the lowest GPA's at a 4.0 [I didn't take honors classes for good reason].

And God forbid someone wrong me, because they would suffer the wrath of my father. Someone at work was mean to me? Expect a call that I guarantee will not be pleasant. Boyfriend wrongs me? Rest assured he will never walk into our house again [and there would be a firearm threat if he did]. And if someone had the audacity to make me cry [a rare occurrence]; hell hath no fury like a father whose daughter is shedding tears.

I drove him crazy when I locked my bedroom door. 

And screamed at him for giving me a curfew. 

Broke my curfew. 

Lied to him about finishing my homework.

Yet he still put up with me, having my back no matter how wrong he knew I was.

When I brought Matt to meet my parents for the first time, my dad asked him if he was Jewish [he's not] and it's been a running joke ever since.  

I credit my father for my common sense, computer wit, humor, patience [or lack there of], stubbornness, love of beer, and for my husband [because they say you choose a husband that is similar to your father], among hundreds of other things.  

And when we were dancing to My Girl at my wedding we both laughed the entire time, joking that I chose poorly and should have gone with a shorter song, because we're both a little awkward on the dance floor. 

My ma -

I'm guessing when I was a teenager, she was considering whether or not she would actually survive the ordeal. For the most part we got along, but I had my moments and I commend her for not going bat-shit crazy on me. 

She had her hands full when Megh & I were kids, too. 

We were quite the duo. 

And she constantly had our friends at the house. The A house was a pretty legit hangout spot. 

Despite our fights during my teenage years, college rolled around and I realized how much I had relied on my parents. I missed coming home to tell my mom about my day. And bitching about random things while she listened to it all, nodding her head, interjecting here and there to agree with me [no matter what]. 

And then I decided to change majors, a decision all parents dread [$]. 

But she told me to absolutely do it. Because she knew it would make me much happier. 

Then there was a wedding, a project most mother-daughter duos would probably kill each other over. Or at least never talk to each other after. 

But she put up with my moodiness, annoyance, and general lack of caring about what type of flower [and everything else] we had.
We left the situation unscathed, possibly closer than we had ever been.

And then - 

I moved away. 

Something I never thought I would do.

Following a boy. 

To Salina [not my first choice]. 

I wasn't going to see my parents daily. Or every weekend, for that matter. 

So I called. 

Every - single - day 

And I cried. 

And I complained.

And we talked and talked and talked.

Ever since then we've had a daily routine of talking every lunch hour. Not about much of anything, but it keeps me sane and helps me pretend I'm still living close. Granted, an hour and 45 minutes to get home is nothing, but it stinks that we can't plan a quick shopping trip or lunch.

I credit my mother for my kindness, love of laughter, looks, singing, attitude, chattiness, smile, generosity, and again - a hundred other things.

-------------------

My parents were there for me through thick, thin and everything in between. 

When I got in my wreck, Matt and I had only been dating 3 months. He barely knew how to spell my last name, let alone my parent's phone number. So he had to call his mom in a panic, watching blood drip from my eyelid [it sounds more dramatic than it actually was, I'm sure] and ask her to call two strangers and tell them their daughter was just in a head-on collision. He had to get out of the car and ask someone where we even were.

And this is how the conversation went [I've heard the story a thousand times]

Mom: "Hello?"

Jo: "Tonia? This is JoAnne, Matt's mom."

Mom: "Oh, HI! It's so nice to hear from you!"

Jo: "Matt just called me and they were in a wreck on K-4"

Mom: "Tim, Mallory's been in a wreck!!"

Click

She called the next day to apologize. Haha!

We were headed there for my dad's bad-ass roast for dinner, so they knew exactly where I would be. 

From what I hear, it was quite the scene.

Traffic backed up all the way along the bridge, ambulances swarming the scene, and my car - 

looking like a dinosaur attacked it [t-rex, probably].

When they got there, the emergency team was pulling off my door with the jaws of life [that machine sounds terrifying]. 

And there was talk of a fatality.

Dad didn't have time to get shoes when they left, so he was running toward my car through broken glass, barefoot. 

They had me completely covered with a blanket because it was January, therefore frickin' freezing, so that didn't help with the fatality talk.

Turns out, I was fine.

 Obviously

Otherwise this post would be extra creepy.

I know that wreck was a turning point not only in my life, but in my parent's as well. I cried every time I went over that bridge for about a year after. And I'm pretty sure my parents did, too. 

I still get the willies when I see the tire marks [yeah, they're still there] and damage to the railing.  

The months following I don't remember, but I went back to school too early [despite what my parents told me to do]. Because I'm so stubborn and wanted everything to be back to normal. 

But they supported me, even after it led to a failing semester [because I couldn't remember squat]. 

And when I wanted to transfer schools, they supported that, too.

My parents are not only the whole reason I'm alive, but they've shaped me into the person I am today. 

They have stuck with me through every good, bad and ugly decision I have ever made. 

And they've boosted my confidence along the way, even if I may not have deserved it. 

So,

to sum up:

My parents are probably the best parents of all time.

I speak the truth.