My Dad is usually
pretty darn happy. And going camping makes him even more so. He’s very
spontaneous and his favorite pastime is making people laugh and blush every now
and then. I love being with him, although we butt heads more often than anyone
else in the family. We’re so alike, each of us wanting things our way. This is
where we run into trouble most often.
He decided one
evening to take the family camping for the week, which was fine by me. I love
camping! We packed up the camping trailer and headed out. I had been texting a
few friends during the whole packing and driving process. I had my first
Smartphone, so it was to be expected, right? Duh, of course! My parents didn’t
like it very much, but although they weren’t too happy about how much time I
was spending on it, they didn’t say much about it. We arrived at the
campground, found our spot beneath a tree, and began setting up camp. I hopped
out of the car, continuing to chat with friends.
Remember how I
said my Dad is a happy person? He wasn’t
so happy at this particular moment. The look on his face was something to
dread. The chill in my body added to the chill that was already present in the
mountains on that July evening.
~
I was fortunate
enough to be able to visit Quito, Ecuador for two and a half months in April,
seeing and experiencing things I’d never imagined. The beautiful weather was
one of my favorites. One of my experiences was being in a foreign country and
celebrating my birthday. My eighteenth birthday. My “I’m officially an adult”
birthday. It was the most glorious feeling to know that I was my own person
from that point on. I didn’t have to take orders from anyone! I could be me! The freedom I felt that May in
Ecuador was the most I had ever felt. The choices I made were mine! Because of
this, I made a few “rebellious” decisions that I normally wouldn’t have if I
were at home. Nothing bad or extreme, but things I wasn’t “allowed” to do at
home. I was having the time of my life!
I didn’t realize
how much being away from home for this important event in my life would affect my
father. I was the first child at home to really go through the “adulting”
process. My parents sent my older brother off on his mission for our church right
as he turned eighteen, so he grew up in Japan with his companions. He came home
a full-blown adult. I, however, became the guinea pig for my parents as they
experienced the mixed emotions that are felt towards a blooming adult.
~
“Paije, get off
your phone! We’re all setting up the trailer and you’re standing around texting
who knows who! You’re not helping at all. Just because you’re an “adult” now
doesn’t mean you don’t have to help the family!”
Why couldn’t he leave me alone? I’d
been an adult for two whole months and he was still treating me like a child. I
guess coming home from an extended trip in a different country didn’t change
anything.
I was busy at the
moment, obviously. My fingers were flying across the smooth glass face of my
iPhone:
Macey!
This is Paije.
I had
a question for yous…
OHMYGOSH HI
Hi!
How would you feel if
I
dropped in tomorrow?
I would cry all
the happy tears!
Come see me!
“Paije! I need your
help!”
Back to reality:
“Tell whoever
you’re texting that you have to go. I’m giving you an instruction to come help
the family.”
“Dad, I’m an adult
now. You can’t give me instructions anymore! Plus, I’m setting up a
get-together with Macey. I haven’t seen her in forever! I’ll be there in a
minute. “
“You’ve earned an
extra job to do. You’re being selfish and rude.”
“You can’t do that
either, Dad! I can’t ‘earn’ chores anymore and you can’t tell me I have to do
any. I’m an adult, remember?”
He should know this by now. Adults
don’t tell other adults what to do!
“I really hate
this whole ‘I’m an adult’ thing.”
Sorry. Can’t help that. You’re
going to have to learn to deal with it.
My Dad’s dreadful
face turned into full anger. I instantly regretted what I said, but reassured
myself that it was the truth and that if it was truth, it was okay to be said. I
stood my ground and let him do his worst. My sometimes bull-headed,
strong-willed father turned to me and began one of his famous, long-winded
lectures about how he was right and how I was wrong and how I’m being so
self-centered and rude. I, being me, stood there and “respectfully” listened, making
full and constant eye contact, glaring at him with a passive-aggressive
attitude. He was not going to win this
battle. And there was no way he was
going to tell me what to do!
The next few days
were filled with me being somewhat
bull-headed and defiantly independent, living what I thought was the “adult
life.” I tried to avoid my dad, especially when he began handing out chores to
be done. If I were going to help out, it would be of my own free will, not
because of someone else’s desire for my assistance. As a result of my mindset,
the relationship between my Dad and me was strained and distant. We both felt
contempt for each other. The reason for his disregard and anger was that he
could no longer control me and he didn’t like that. My reason for being so
stubborn was that I felt he was being bossy and not letting me grow up. The
tension was noticeable enough that my younger siblings started feeling uneasy
about it.
The situation
became so bad that my Mom decided we all needed to sit down and have a talk
about it. We gathered and expressed our feelings, saying that we weren’t
comfortable with where the relationships were at the time. My mother, being the
peacemaker and logician of the family, explained to the family, focusing most
of her comments at my dad, that I was an adult now and that things would be a
bit different now. I could no longer earn chores for consequences and that she
and Dad could no longer tell me what to do. Their role in my life had changed.
Instead of teaching and correcting, they were now mentors that could give me
suggestions for my life to help guide me. The choices I made were now fully
mine.
Dad did not take
this well. He did not believe I was ready for adulthood. Seeing that the rest
of us did not share his point of view, he stormed out of the camper and went
for a drive. We didn’t see him for a couple of hours. I was glad that Mom had,
for the most part, taken my side of the argument. She understood. Why didn’t
he?
During this time,
any texts, phone calls, or conversations I had with him were short, curt, and
to the point. No time was wasted on loving pleasantries or kind remarks. There
was little to no praise for the things I accomplished or did right. At first, I
reciprocated the same feelings of resentment that I felt he had for my attitude
and demeanor. But after a month or so, I started wanting his approval and love.
I realized that I needed to respect his role and love him more. I couldn’t make
him better or turn him into what I wanted him to be. I needed to love him for
who he was.
As time went on,
he began to understand a bit more and I began to learn what a real adult does
and how they live. An adult “sees what needs to be done and does it” a mantra I
heard often from my mother. I saw that being an adult meant jumping in to help
where and when help is needed. Being an adult is being responsible and taking
up extra responsibilities. Being an adult is being mature. Being an adult is
accepting when you’ve been wrong and doing all you can to fix the problem.
Being an adult is sacrificing for the needs and wants of others.
I was becoming a
new person and I came home from Ecuador a different, new person. I think that’s
one of the biggest things that upset my Dad. His first-born daughter was
growing up and, whether he admitted it or not, he was not ready for that to
happen. He couldn’t bear to let go of me, the girl he has always loved and
cherished. His “baby girl” was becoming a woman.
I began to confide
in him some of the things I was going through. My first heartbreak is when I
began “softening up” and letting him back into my life. I told him about it and
he seemed understanding and sympathetic. He gave me a couple tips on what to do
and how boys behave. I was grateful for his advice and consideration. I began
to trust him with my life and feelings again. The walls of defiance I had put
up began to come down.
After a few months
of slowly taking my walls down, it was time for me to move away to college.
BYU-Idaho is a four-hour drive from my home, so I was going to be living on my
own, but be close enough for visiting back and forth. As it came close to time
for me to leave, my father and I became close. We had both become comfortable
with our new relationship and we accepted each other for who we were.
Can you text me the recipe when you get home?
I need the white bread one.
I will text it
later. How did your auditions go?
Do you like your
roommates? I finally got things in the garage
put away and we
can park the cars in there again, yay. We
miss you and hope
everything is going well.
My Dad and I are
now very close and we openly show love and kindness to each other. He
frequently texts and calls to make sure I’m doing okay and that I’m alive. He
praises me for my accomplishments and successes and I freely tell him what’s
going on in my life. I can’t believe we didn’t have this relationship earlier
in life! Once we accepted the butterflies we both had become, we could let go
of the caterpillars of the past. Letting go of the people we used to be has
helped us hold on to our relationships. Our father-daughter relationship is
beautiful. I plan on doing all I can as an adult to keep it that way.
