Look How Far We’ve Come
When I was 18 years old, I move out of my parents house to live with 3 other girls in a two bedroom apartment. Man we had fun! Well… two of us had fun. The other two dry humped their boyfriends and poured our beer down the sink meticulously placing each bottle back in the fridge as a not so subtle disapproving statement of our life choices. But they always made it to church on Sunday, I assume to pray for our heathen souls.
I’m still a little mad about that…
Anyway, I lived with this gaggle of girls not-yet-turned women for 18 months and once the lease was up, I moved to where I knew I would always be welcome–my parents house.
When I left my parents house for the first time, I was their good little Mormon daughter. When I returned back, things had changed. I tried to put up a charade–for fear of disappointing them–that I was still the same spiritually enlightened, “morally clean” person. I even took a church calling to be a primary teacher (though the guilt of being a poser nearly killed me!).
Sadly, after being caught drinking underage by a team of power hungry cops, my cover was blown. My parents told me it was live by their rules or move out! Being the emotional hormone-ridden teen that I was, I understood that to mean they were kicking me out.
Through the years I have moved back home a total of 6 times. SIX! Each time my parents have welcomed me back and each time they have come to except me and my non-Mormon ways more and more. They may not approve of my life style any more today than they did 10 years ago, but they have become more tolerant.
For example, Sunday morning I came home after a sleepover with ED to find my parents in the kitchen with my niece and nephew who they were watching for the weekend. My Mom turns to my five year old niece and smugly says, “Rowan, ask Summer why she wasn’t here to have a sleep over with you last night”, then gives me a small, smart-ass smile.
I love my Mother. Tolerance with a sense of humor … I’ll take that over guilt trips and lectures any day!
Blogfully yours,
Summer
The dry-humping detail is perfect (and, wow, I had NEVER heard of soaking until I came to Utah).
It’s really great that your parents are not all-or-nothing about this stuff. I have another friend who left the family faith to find her own way, and while it’s been hard for her parents to accept, she said, “To them, I’m still the person they fell in love with the day I was born.” I thought that was kind of a beautiful way to put it.
This post reminds me of something my father once told me. It was during a time when I had decided to leave my dream city of Chicago. Leave my dream job. To move to the middle of Missouri for a boy. I thought my father would freak out. But, he didn’t. In fact, he supported me. And that’s when I freaked out (as in, lots of tears). When asked about why I was crying, I admitted I thought he’d be unhappy with my decision. His response? “I think it’s presumptuous for parents to think they know what’s best for their adult children. We don’t. We’re here to support you in any decision you make.” To this day, those words make me tear up.