Point of View

            The obliteration of any parent’s ego can be ignited in just one sentence.

            “Mom! You’re not wearing that  are you?” Lauren screamed the morning of her Confirmation at St. Simon‘s Church in 1998. Enraged and standing before me, my child spit fire as she insisted I change my outfit.

            “What’s wrong with it?” I asked sheepishly.

            “It’s orange for God’s sake. It’ll clash in every picture. Our robes are red,” she hissed. “Besides, it’s way too short. You look like a Spice Girl. Can’t you just look like a…like a mom?”

            Crestfallen, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror as she stormed out of my room. It wasn’t that orange, plus it was the one dress I had that hid a multitude of flaws. And what was wrong with looking like a Spice Girl? You’d think that would be a compliment with the band’s popularity at a fever pitch.

            In their younger years, my three girls and I constantly battled over my appearance. At first, they wanted me respectable and conservative. But as the years went by I was encouraged to look like a Malibu beach babe. They put me in jeans so low on the hips I didn’t dare bend over.

            “I can’t wear those,” I implored to Michelle and Jenni, looking at the pants they expected me to paint on my legs. “I can barely pull them up. I look ridiculous.”

            “Only you think that,” they retorted.

            Over the years, it’s amazed me how my four children and I can view one topic and come up with five opposing opinions. So the question of who’s right often remains murky and unanswered.

            While writing my memoir, I also discovered that we can view the past in dissimilar ways too. I looked at my history only through my eyes and perspective. I wanted to blame others for my shortcomings, but found my three brothers saw our childhood, and me, completely different.

            As a little girl, I was pure and innocent. I was my parent’s “rose among the thorns” and the perfect child, or so I thought. Yet, my younger brother Tim reminded me that I wasn’t always miss sweetness and light. Reminiscing our sibling spats, his view of the past confirmed that. I could throw a punch just as hard as the next kid. The proof was left for all eternity in the middle of his face – a permanently crooked nose.

            We’re all entitled to our point of view. I’m thrilled my adult children are independent thinkers and not simply clones of their parents, but I do find myself reminding them that there are always at least two ways of looking at everything often.  I think it’s important for them to know that life should not be seen through tunnel vision, but with telescopic range.

             While we may not always agree, by allowing other people’s views and opinions to be heard, we become open to a variety of possibilities and gain new knowledge, maybe even about ourselves. It permits us to become fully connected to this world we live in, tolerant and forgiving. And that’s good – something I think we can all agree upon.