I was about thirteen – reading my book in bed. Dad came in to say goodnight. The first thing he saw was my jeans – on the bedroom floor, exactly where I’d taken them off.
“You should pick your jeans up and put them on your chair.”
“Why? I’m going to put them on again in the morning.”
“Well,” my Dad said, “If there’s a fire in the middle of the night you might trip over your jeans when you’re trying to escape.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the defining remark of my teenage years. From that moment on I was convinced my Dad was mad and he didn’t know what he was talking about – whereas I, like all teenage boys, knew everything there was to know about everything.
Of course, my Dad did his best to reinforce my opinion over the next few years. “If you carry on drinking like this – ” I used to have three or four pints with my mates on a Friday night – “You’ll never be able to father any children.” And when I told Dad I wouldn’t be taking the first job I’d been offered after University, he informed me I was insane. “You could have had a glittering career in wall brackets.”
Fast forward several millennia. I am now a Father. It is the middle of December. Scarborough is colder than the far side of Pluto. Jessica announces that she’s going into town.
“Dressed like that?” As far as I can make out there are two types of trip to town: one where you are seriously shopping – requiring casual clothes – and the other where you’re ‘hangin’’ or ‘chillin’’, both of which demand the full catwalk experience. This was clearly the latter.
“Obviously,” Jessica replied.
“How many bangles have you got on your arm?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Thirty?”
“Jessica, it’s freezing cold outside. Thirty bangles are not going to keep you warm.”
As soon as the words left my mouth I knew what I’d done. Nine words. ‘Thirty bangles are not going to keep you warm.’ It was my ‘trip-over-your-jeans’ moment. I could tell by Jessica’s expression. The final confirmation she’d been waiting for. My father is clinically mad. He thinks clothes and stuff are for keeping you warm.
But I was joking. Honestly I was joking. But would Jessica ever believe me? No. In my daughter’s eyes I am now officially mad. Nothing I say for the next ten years will be worth listening to.
I was still turning it over in my mind an hour later as I slipped and slithered along the cliff top with the dog. I’d been joking. Can’t you see that, Jessica? I was joking. And then a truly awful thought struck me.
Suppose my Dad had been joking…
Suppose, when he said, “you might fall over your jeans in the middle of the night” he’d been joking? Suppose that he’d gone back into the bedroom and said to Mum, ‘That boy’s got the sense of humour of a fridge magnet.’ (Or whatever passed for a fridge magnet thirty or more years ago.)
As Dad died before we had children I’m never going to know.
A month later I’m still turning it over in my mind. I’ve always told the jeans-in-the-night story as a joke. Gulp. Has the joke been on me all the time? I don’t think my Dad was joking. He drove an ambulance when he was young. Maybe he witnessed some dreadful tragedy caused by someone tripping over their trousers?
But I’ll never know. Just as Jessica will never know I was joking. And even if she reads this – will she believe me…
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I often wonder if the things my parents said were serious or in jest
I think most of us can relate to the sentiments in your blog today. It certainly brings back memories for me of all the things that my Mum and Dad used to say to me when I was growing up but which I paid absolutely no attention to…..until I had children of my own.
In my children’s formative years, I found myself repeating so many times EXACTLY what my parents had said to me (i.e. you’ll catch a cold if you don’t wear your coat, carrots are the best vegetable for good vision, don’t you ever speak to me like that to name a few!).
My 4 children are now teens plus (oldest will be 21 in April and youngest is just about to turn 15) and what I have realised is that you have to let them find their own way but keep dishing out the advice. Somehow or other, it does all get remembered and with a bit of luck and a fair wind, they will turn out to be decent and kind human beings and the goodness of time, pass on the same principles and advice to their own children!
Thanks for commenting, Bella – you know the thing I say most? “Turn it down.” The TV, music – all the damn time. Swore I would never turn into my Dad and do that. Once calculated that at four times a day I’d say “Turn it down” 20,000 times before my kids left home…
Ohh it is all a bit late now to say it was a joke…….
HNY, Mich x
I used to think my dad was an idiot, but then turned 21 and was amazed by how quickly he’d smartened up.
That seems to be a great way of parenting. Kind of make a joke about something to point out how absurd the situation is. Instead of, “You have WAY too many bangles on and it looks tacky,” you make a joke about it because its absurd and you don’t want to feel like you are criticizing someone’s fashion sense, especially your daughter’s.
The pants thing is funny, because here, its a very bad idea to put pants on the floor, because scorpions LOVE to crawl into them to bask in the ex body heat, and eat on the dead skin. And putting on jeans with a scorpion in them is not my idea of a good time, just saying….
It is always when you know the least you think you know everything. I really wish I had listen to my parents as a teen, especially when they told me they wished they had listened to their parents when they were still young.
I liked the post, my son is eleven now, and I fear the karma from me being a crazy teen is soon to come back to me.