Last week I told you about Tyler and him “giving in” to Sarah. The majority of you said that your husbands do too, but you know what?
When I was little, I was deathly afraid of my dad.
My parents did the whole Good Cop, Bad Cop thing with me, only I never ever got to meet the Bad Cop. So it was more… Bad Cop, Worse Cop.
Just the threat of “Do you want me to tell your Father when he gets home?” and I broke out into a complete sweat! I would beg my mother to NOT EVER tell my dad!
BOY WAS I AN IDIOT!
The crap I could have gotten away with would have been mind boggling if I had responded with:
“Go ahead and tell him. See if I care! You just KNOW he is going to be on MY side!”
We had many, tedious rules when I was little. One of them was “No running in the house.”
When I was 4, I ran down the hall and jumped onto the sofa. I knocked over the stained glass lamp my dad had just made that was sitting on the coffee table.
I ran and hid behind a curtain sobbing uncontrollably. Surely he couldn’t find me there. I swear I broke out in hives, I was so scared.
Dad came into the room and “found” me. He was laughing hysterically, gave me a giant hug and said that he didn’t even like that lamp.
Apparently I was not a bright child, because I never caught on that he would NOT punish me.
I never ran to Daddy.
I never begged for stuff for him to buy me.
Once I went shopping with the folks and dad picked out this super cute Esprit top for me. He brought it over to mom and showed it to her. It was $50.
She just about keeled over from the price tag. Dad was like, “Hey it’s cute! Is that a lot of money to spend?”
Now… why did I not shop with that man more often?
I did not get the shirt or anything else my dad picked out.
My 1st car was a ’77 Buick Electra. It was a boat. Since dad is super into cars he always said that if it was raining outside I should just pull my car into the garage so it doesn’t get spots on it.
One day I did.
I hit the side of the garage with my mirror and got stuck.
Somehow, I couldn’t get out and was wedged into the garage.
Foreword. Back. Foreword. Back.
I literally took out the side of our garage trying to get it unstuck.
Once I freed it, I kept backing out.
I didn’t come home for 4 hours I was so scared.
I drove around wondering what to do and finally I went to a McDonalds to call my mom from a pay phone to see how things were going over there. Was I going to be dead, or not?
The answer was “Not.”
For the next 2 years dad would look at me and laugh and say:
“When I told you it was okay to pull “into” the garage, I didn’t mean literally!”
On the flip side, early on in my life I learned that when mom said “No means No,” she meant it. Each year I would fight less and less, finally catching on that SHE NEVER GAVE IN.
In my Senior year of high school, our soccer team went to the State Championships and my boyfriend was on the team.
A bunch of my friends and I planned to go.
The game was in the City and mom said “No. You can’t go into the city.”
I didn’t ask twice or beg or plead.
No Meant No.
The night of the big game we went out to eat. I was morose and mom asked me why. I told her it was because I wasn’t at the game.
Do you KNOW what she SAID?
“I didn’t think you really wanted to go. I would have said Yes, if you had fought harder for it.”
If I knew then, what I know now…