B3ta.com’s QOTW is about overprotective parents this week. This means I have no hilarious story to tell – my upbringing was full of AWESOMENESS!
Not that my siblings and I were neglected – far from it – we were allowed to play out, we got reprimanded (threatened with smacks more than actually smacked – when my mum threatened, you did as you were told), we were rewarded for being good. As such the lot of us grew up into well-rounded (no, I don’t mean fat – I mean look at me – do I LOOK fat?) adults with a good sense of right and wrong.
During my teenage years, I ‘went off the rails’ somewhat, getting into drugs and various criminal activities. During this stage, I developed a liking for going ‘walkabout’ every now and then. Back then, in the pre-mobile phone era, this must have been traumatic for my parents, but they accepted it, just a few words when I returned 1, 2 or 3 days later about letting them know where I was etc.
The walkabout thing continued and my boss even accepted that now and then, I just disappeared for a few days (I never took holidays, so I suppose it was a kind of break for me).
Fast forward to early 2008: I left the house one morning to goto work, walked a few steps and thought “Fuck it – I need a break.” and so turned off my phone and fucked off for the day to chill.
Come the evening I turned my phone back on to find missed calls a plenty from Harriett and one from my good friend H. Turns out Harriett got worried when she couldn’t get hold of me and had been all round my friends to find out if they knew where I was. The crowning moment though: she went to see my mum, told her she couldn’t get hold of me (bear in mind we weren’t even going out together at the time) and my mum just looked her straight in the eye and said something along the lines:
“And? he’ll be fine – he’ll be back soon.” and that was it.
So, I never had over-protective parents – I had the best parents anyone could ever ask for.
Since my dad died, I’ve tried to be as like him as much as I possibly can. I don’t get round to see my mum as much as I should, but when I do, there’s always a cup of coffee and the offer of something to eat.
What? expecting a punchline? there is none – just me saying in a cack-handed manner that I love my mum and dad 🙂