The Weekday Parent

“I am the maker of rules

Dealing with fools.”

- Lyrics often quoted by my mother

When stories start circulating as we eat dinner at family gatherings, my father has three advantages over my mother:

• He is no longer alive.

Death tends to sanitize memories, so we focus on the positive sides of the ledger. Perhaps it is our mind’s way of protecting people who mean a lot to us after they are gone. It may also stem from a sense of fairness, knowing they cannot defend themselves against the indiscretions stored in our memory banks. Regardless of the reason, I am more likely to recall positive memories of my dad than the heated disagreements we once had.

• He did not play a very hands-on role during my childhood.

If a parent offloads the responsibilities of day-to-day parenting, then the path is cleared to make positive interactions count. Divorced parents with physical custody have to do the work of ensuring their children do their homework, perform their chores, and eat their vegetables. Weekend parents get to have fun with their kids. While my parents were a couple throughout my childhood, my dad was a workaholic who was rarely home, which made quality time spent with him a special event.

• My dad got a lot better at being a parent.

My relationship with my father was much better as an adult than as a child. It improved even more after he retired. These newer memories tend to crowd out the outdated ones and define how I remember my dad.

My mother holds none of these advantages. She is very much alive, which means that not only can her current behavior trigger memories of past indiscretions, but she is still around to do things that frustrate me in the present. With my father at work, my mother was the one responsible for saying “no.” While our relationship certainly evolved as I grew older, she did not have to take a great leap to become a great parent. She was already there.

When looking back on my childhood, the memories I have of my mother are much more complex than those I have of my dad. With my father, memories are centered on activities: family vacations, his coaching my Little League teams, and taking me out of school for a fishing trip. The childhood memories I have of my mother often involve lessons that helped shape the man I am today.

I remember hearing classmates in junior high school mocking David Bowie’s sexuality and stating that they liked his music but did not really like him because he was gay. Parroting these peer lessons at home while listening to “Under Pressure,” I asked how he could be singing about “love” if he was gay. While I do not recall the exact words, the lesson that she provided was short and very clear: this type of hatred would not be tolerated in our house. This taught me not only about acceptance but also about the need to question prevailing thought.

Another defining memory centers on a double lesson in persistence and in supporting those you love. In New York, we took state-created Regents exams in place of final exams in many classes. In preparing for my 11th-grade English test, it was clear that my difficulties in spelling were going to present a problem. Seeing that my efforts to study were not improving my scores on practice tests, my mother tried to help. With every one of her efforts failing, she found new ways to try. At one point, she even recorded the spelling of difficult words onto a tape so that I could listen as I went to sleep. Nothing worked, but she kept trying, and she never gave up on me. This gave a desperately needed boost to the self-esteem of a struggling student.

The final memory I want to share is one that my mother would never remember. The details of the day have slipped away, but I was having a bad day as a teenager. Most likely, it was something inconsequential, but at the time, it felt like my world was falling apart. What I do remember is my mother giving me a hug that made me feel safe. I can still remember that feeling like it happened yesterday. Knowing that this place of safety exists became an anchor as I began my journey into adulthood. On this Mother’s Day, I would like to thank my mother for providing it.